Master Apprentice Archive Lost and Found Quick search:

Lost and Found

by Kat (padawan_kat@yahoo.com)

Email: padawan_kat@yahoo.com

Archive: Sure, just let me know where

Category: Angst, alternate universe, pre-slash

Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan (pre-slash)

Rating: I'm awful at rating stuff. Read the warnings, they're probably a better indication.

Warnings: OK, here we go. Obi-torture abounds in here. Obi is a slave in this one, and my version of slavery is not a happy place. There's physical abuse, and implied sexual abuse of a minor - nothing graphic, but it is implied, so be warned. Oh, and my bad guy's a psycho. However, if you can deal with all that, it does have a happy mushy ending. :)

Disclaimer: All recognisable Star Wars characters belong to George Lucas. I am making no money from this, it's done solely out of love.

Feedback: Oh please, oh please...

Thanks: To my friend The Bear Dog, who thought up all the funky gun names, and put up with me while I was writing this. And to my flatmate, for suggesting I call this story "Bob goes to Denver." (I didn't understand either :)

Summary: Set approximately eight months after Jedi Apprentice 2, but Qui-Gon never took Obi-Wan as his apprentice. Now on an undercover mission to investigate an illegal arms trade in the outer rim, Qui-Gon finds Obi-Wan being kept as a slave by the very man he is investigating. Is it the will of the Force throwing them together again? Whatever the answer, Qui-Gon must somehow find a way to both complete his mission and rescue Obi-Wan from slavery.

Part 1 The battered cargo ship settled heavily onto the small landing pad, its engines whining a little in protest at the maneuver. The setting sun danced across the boxy craft, highlighting the scars and dents in its metal surface. It was an ugly ship, as ships went, but its appearance belied the power it contained.

Much like the man currently piloting it.

In the cockpit, Qui-Gon Jinn powered down the engines and rose from the pilot's chair, making his way swiftly to his cabin at the rear of the ship. He did not have much time. He needed to prepare, and quickly.

Crossing the cabin, he stepped into the small 'fresher and stopped, examining his reflection in the mirror. He shook his head in faint disbelief. He certainly did not look like himself.

In place of the Jedi robes, he now wore battered black leathers, scarred from hard use, and heavy combat boots. A wide belt sat low on his hips, complete with holster, and a shoulder strap held a second holster under his left arm. His hair was pulled back and braided into a single tail, and his face - clean-shaven for once - looked all planes and angles; harsh in the glaring light of the 'fresher. The scar across his chin, usually hidden by his beard, stood out in sharp relief.

/I look like a gangster,/ he thought in faint amusement, then sobered. That was the whole point of this; that he be as convincing a criminal as possible. A man who had come seeking stolen weapons to arm a rebel militia group would not look like he were about to spend a day at the beach. Lives depended on his getting the weapons that were needed. He would be keenly aware of the responsibility placed upon him with this duty. He would be strong - no, tough - but wary, too. Ready for action, but not wishing to start fights he could not win.

He had a mission. His men were depending on him.

He would do what was necessary.

He must not fail.

As these thoughts flowed smoothly through Qui-Gon's mind, his posture and expression was subtly altering, taking on the personality he was conjuring up. The man before the mirror changed, chameleon-like, slowly shifting into a new shape and form.

In a very short time, the calm, dignified Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn was gone as though he had never been. In his place stood Quinn Tel-Gon, second in command of a militia group on Koslos, on an urgent mission to purchase weapons that were desperately needed if they were to continue to fight the tyranny.

/It is important that I speak of it with passion,/ Qui-Gon thought. /This fight is my life. Koslos must be liberated./

Koslos was an isolated outer rim planet that was in the midst of a brutal and bloody civil war, and had been for the past two years. The planet had suffered under a cruel dictatorship government for over a decade before a revolt finally started. The dictatorship was now in the process of being messily overthrown, with rebel militia groups fighting on all fronts. However, the groups were not properly unified - they all fought for the same cause, but opinions were divided on exactly who should take control of the planet after the current government was toppled.

Some influential Koslosians were trying to ensure that they would gain power after the war by funding various militia groups, providing them with the means to obtain more and better weapons and thus, hopefully, buying their loyalty. So it was that members of such groups were now frequently making forays into the surrounding systems, to purchase arms by whatever means were possible.

Thus the reason why the Jedi Council and the Senate had picked it as his cover - one more militia group on Koslos would not seem unusual; there were dozens of them and no one, not even the Koslosians themselves, really knew all the details of which group was fighting for whom. And while Qui-Gon shuddered to think of the chaos that would reign once the dictatorship was actually overthrown, the confusion was certainly aiding him on this particular mission. With Republic and Jedi contacts in place to verify his story, he was confident that his cover would hold.

/And then,/ he thought, /I can get a good look at this dealer who trades in stolen Republic weapons. And, hopefully, find out who is informing him so well./

The arms thefts had been going on for some time, but over the last six months they had become so perfectly timed that it was clear someone on the inside was passing information to the thieves. No matter how the schedule of transport changed, or what routes were taken, or what decoys were used, the raids still happened. And every time, the raiders seemed to know exactly which ship to hit, and which way they could run without being apprehended. It was too perfect.

On investigation, Republic forces had traced some of the sales of the stolen weapons to Kar'vel, another outer rim planet. The man believed to be fronting the sales, and probably behind the raids, was one Gan Gatt, originally from Corellia. Gatt was a hugely wealthy businessman, who ran several legitimate companies, but behind the scenes was suspected to be involved in everything from slave trading to drug dealing.

Gatt had taken up residence on Kar'vel as a convenient place to run his shady deals away from the jurisdiction of the Republic forces. However, despite his criminal history, it was clear that Gatt was merely the front for this particular operation. What the Senate really wanted was the name of the insider who was passing information to Gatt and his raiders.

And so, the Senate had approached the Jedi Council and asked for a Jedi operative to carry out an undercover mission. The directive: pose as an arms buyer, enter into trading with Gatt and find out where - and from whom - he was getting his information.

Basically, the Jedi operative was to be a mole-hunter - and Qui-Gon had been chosen for the hunt.

A shrill beeping suddenly sounded from his cabin, and he turned abruptly and strode across to the small astromech droid waiting beside the door. "Report," he said sharply, turning to look at the computer readout on the wall.

The information was immediately displayed - a vehicle approaching from the west, heading for the ship. At current speed, ETA was 9 minutes and counting.

Qui-Gon turned quickly, walked over to the bed and began donning weapons. Two blasters, one for each holster. A hunting knife attached to his belt, and a second smaller knife in his boot. Twin throwing knives concealed in the cuffs of his jacket. Enough weapons for anyone, surely - and yet he still felt oddly vulnerable without the reassuring weight of his lightsaber hanging at his belt. Blasters and knives were just no substitute.

However, he could hardly march into Gatt's residence with a lightsaber on his person - he was bound to be searched, and he would certainly have some trouble explaining why he was carrying a Jedi weapon around. He was taking his 'saber with him - there was no way he was leaving it behind altogether - but he had accepted the necessity of hiding it.

He glanced over at the little astrodroid, considering. As well as carrying a list of what he hoped to obtain and in what quantities, it also had a very well-concealed internal storage chamber - which currently held his lightsaber.

The droid would probably be scanned, he mused, but they will be looking for explosives, not for lightsabers. An unlit 'saber was just so much metal and crystal; if indeed the scan picked it up at all, it would just appear to be part of the droid.

He turned back to the bed and picked up one last item, a terminal for the ship's computer, and clipped it onto his belt. He glanced around once more to satisfy himself that he had everything, then took a deep breath, centering himself in the Force. He was ready.

Turning, he strode through the door, calling to the droid to follow him. It glided smoothly behind him as he made his way to the main hatch and lowered the ramp, then stepped out of the ship.

The sun was low in the sky now, moving slowly but surely down towards the horizon. He looked west, squinting against the glare, and saw the distant outline of a vehicle approaching. Purposefully, he walked down the ramp and stepped off, followed by the droid.

The area he had been instructed to land in was barren; hard-packed reddish dirt with occasional scrubby plants and little else. It was also remote - there had been no settlements at all for several hundred kilometres. No doubt Gatt would have wanted to set up his little fortress in an isolated area, away from curious eyes - and he was so wealthy that it would be no hardship for him to have everything he needed shipped to him.

The vehicle was drawing close now, and Qui-Gon could make out the shape of a large speeder, carrying at least two occupants. He kept his eyes on it as it covered the remaining distance between them, searching for any immediate signs of danger, and was still watching narrowly as it pulled to a smooth stop a few metres away from him.

There were three in the speeder, all male; a Phindian, a burly Twi'lek and a human, who was driving. All three looked wary, and Qui-Gon made sure to keep his hands away from his weapons and make no sudden moves. Gatt's men were sure to be well-armed.

As soon as the speeder had stopped, the Twi'lek climbed out, facing Qui-Gon, his hand hovering over his blaster. "You are Tel-Gon?" he asked warily.

"Quinn Tel-Gon," Qui-Gon replied. "You are Gatt's welcoming committee, I presume?"

The Twi'lek smiled faintly. "You could say that. We are here to escort you to his home, and to ensure that you are what you say you are. Will you consent to a scan?"

"Do I have a choice?" Qui-Gon asked, keeping his tone light.

The Twi'lek smiled again, and it was not a nice smile. "No."

"Then it seems I must consent."

The Twi'lek nodded. "Remove your weapons and lay them down at your feet. All of them."

Moving slowly, Qui-Gon did as requested, laying the blasters and various knives down on the ground beside him. The Twi'lek pointed a small, hand-held scanning device at him, watching it's small readout screen, then nodded again. "He's clean. No other weapons. No bugs."

"What about the droid?" It was the driver who spoke; a human with deeply tanned skin and close-cropped dark hair.

"The droid has a readout of what I need and in what quantities," Qui-Gon answered. "I'll need to bring it."

The Twi'lek fiddled with the scanning device for a moment, then directed it at the droid. "It's clean too."

"All right then," the driver said. "That's the formalities over with. You can pick up your weapons now, Tel-Gon, and you and your droid can come get in. Just remember that we have weapons too, so don't try anything."

"I assure you, I have no wish to start a fight," Qui-Gon said, picking up his weapons and replacing them. "I'm here to trade, that's all."

"Then we won't have any problems," the driver said easily.

Qui-Gon directed the droid to situate itself in the space provided for it, at the rear of the speeder, then pulled the computer terminal off his belt and keyed in a command. Immediately, the ship's ramp began to close. He keyed in another command, ensuring that the ship's controls were locked, then clipped the terminal back on his belt and climbed into the speeder, beside the Twi'lek.

Moments later, they started heading west, back the way they had come.

The journey to Gatt's home took nearly three hours, and Qui-Gon spent almost all of that time being eyed suspiciously by the Twi'lek. He endeavoured to ignore the scrutiny and concentrated instead on the surroundings. It was full dark after an hour had passed, but Kar'vel's three moons had risen, the bright blue-white globes providing a surprising amount of illumination. The piercing headlights on the speeder weren't insignificant, either.

The area changed slowly from flat and barren to mountainous, and as they drew closer to the mountains, the scrubby plants that had decorated the open plains grew denser and more lush, finally culminating in a stretch of open bush that thickened into forest. The speeder changed course to skim lightly along the edge of the trees, following the course of the forest as it curved around towards the mountains.

Soon they were in the foothills of the mountain range, and still rising steadily. Although the nearest peaks to them were fairly low, in the light from the moons Qui-Gon could dimly see that they became much higher further in, and estimated that the tallest ones must be several thousand metres high at the summit.

The forest cut away as they reached the base of the first peak, and the speeder left it behind, now following the course of the rock. It suddenly accelerated over a steep rise, and a group of buildings, lit both from without and within, came into view on the other side.

Qui-Gon watched carefully as they approached, trying to take in as much detail as he could.

The main structure was a huge, ornate building, roughly rectangular in shape and rising some six storeys above the ground. It was dark grey in colour, blending in well with the surrounding rock, but it was no fortress - the elaborate decoration and large, diamond-shaped windows that ringed each floor looked far more showy than they did functional. Light shone from many of the windows, and the roof appeared better lit still, sending a soft, pale glow up into the sky.

Several smaller buildings ringed the main structure, but none of these rose higher than a couple of storeys, and most looked like storage areas of some kind. The whole collection of buildings was surrounded by tall lamps which apparently provided a boundary as well as a light source, as the faint blue sheen of a forcefield made a second ring just outside the lamps.

The speeder slowed as it approached the forcefield, and there was a momentary pause as the driver pointed a small remote straight ahead and pressed a control on it. With a soft hum, the section of the forcefield immediately in front of them shimmered out of existence. The driver promptly took them through, then paused again on the other side to reactivate the field.

"Impressive security," Qui-Gon commented quietly.

The driver snorted. "It's mostly just to keep the tarnwolves out. Forest's full of them. They killed a couple of slaves early on, and Mr. Gatt doesn't like losing valuable merchandise when he can avoid it."

Slaves. Qui-Gon grimaced inwardly. It made sense that Gatt would have them; what with his wealth, and slavery being as common as it was on the outer rim. The practice had always appalled him, however, and no matter how often he had witnessed it, he had never quite got over his horror at sentient beings being sold like so much meat. He would have to watch those emotions carefully so as to let nothing slip. He was supposed to have more pressing things on his mind than the ethics of slavery.

The speeder skimmed across the courtyard, which was paved with ornate, brick-red cobblestones, and came to a gentle stop in front of the main house. The Twi'lek climbed out of the speeder, followed by the Phindian, and gestured to Qui-Gon to join them. As soon as he was out of the vehicle the driver pulled away, heading towards one of the smaller buildings.

"We will take you to your room now," the Twi'lek said, and Qui-Gon turned to him with a questioning look.

"My room? I had thought I would be meeting with Mr. Gatt," he said warily.

"First we will double-check that you are who you say you are. If everything checks out, you will do business with Mr. Gatt tomorrow."

He left unspoken what would happen if everything didn't check out, but Qui-Gon read the meaning easily enough. /Gatt is careful, I'll give him that,/ he thought grimly. "What about my droid?"

"It will be brought to your room after a further scan."

"Very well," he said, nodding, and the Twi'lek turned and strode up the front steps to the main entrance. Qui-Gon followed him, eyeing the huge bronze-coloured double doors dubiously. /Very pretty. Gatt certainly has expensive tastes./

The Twi'lek entered a code into the keypad beside the doors, and they swung smoothly inwards, opening onto a high-ceilinged hallway. The hall led into a vast open chamber in which the dominant feature was a large, gleaming spiral staircase leading up to a mezzanine floor which ringed the central chamber. To one side, Qui-Gon could also see the familiarly shaped doors of a turbolift, indicating that the staircase was mostly for show.

The chamber floor was made of a smooth, pale stone, polished to a mirror-like shine, and a small fountain sat in the very centre of the chamber, the water tinkling gently. The whole atmosphere was one of extravagant opulence. Gatt was clearly a man who enjoyed his wealth, Qui-Gon thought. /And enjoys showing it off, as well./

He glanced around again, taking in the gleaming floor and slick metallic walls, the silence broken only by the noise from the fountain and their footsteps, both of which echoed peculiarly off the high ceiling. The chamber had a feeling of hushed anticipation about it, as if it were waiting for something to happen to break its stillness.

It made him uneasy.

The Twi'lek led the way to the turbolift and the doors swished open at a touch. He gestured for Qui-Gon to enter, then once he had, followed him in, and the Phindian crowded in after them. The Twi'lek selected a floor on the control pad and the lift doors hissed shut again. Qui-Gon felt the rush of movement as the lift ascended, then the doors opened and the Twi'lek waved him out.

The floor the lift had stopped on was no less opulent than the main entrance, but in a different style - the hall was richly carpeted in dark red, and silvery silken hangings lined the walls in between expensive looking works of art, mostly paintings. Qui-Gon found most of them spectacularly ugly.

Again, it was silent except for the now-muffled sound of their footsteps, and Qui-Gon wondered if everyone was under orders to stay out of his way until he had been checked out. It seemed as likely a scenario as any.

There were doors set at intervals along the hall, and the Twi'lek walked swiftly down to the fourth door on the right, which was standing open. He stopped, turning to Qui-Gon as the other man came up behind him. "This will be your suite while you are here. Mr. Gatt has left a message for you inside, and there is a housekeeping droid that can take care of any requests you have. The door is alarmed and will remain locked unless someone with access opens it. Any questions?"

"No, I understand," Qui-Gon replied. He had the feeling that the Twi'lek had made that little speech quite a few times before, if the bored tone was any indication.

The Twi'lek nodded, then gestured for Qui-Gon to enter the room. He walked in and heard the door swish shut behind him, followed by a faint clicking sound as the locking mechanism engaged. He turned and saw an identification pad beside the door, with instructions that he should place his hand on it. He did so, and the pad glowed briefly red, then darkened again. The door did not open.

/Well, I'm certainly not going anywhere,/ he thought. /Not unless I want to fight my way out./ He sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw. /Not that I have a lightsaber to fight with at the moment./

He sincerely hoped that the 'further scan' they wanted to do on the droid would again be looking for explosives and things of that nature. It would be most unfortunate if they found his 'saber.

He glanced around the room. It was decorated in much the same style as the hallway, with plush carpeting and wall hangings, and more artworks that were really not to Qui-Gon's taste. A dining table with four chairs sat in one corner of the room, and a large, overstuffed couch and two matching armchairs sat in the centre, facing an entertainment centre which took up most of one wall.

/Gatt certainly believes in being a good host - unless he has to kill you, of course,/ Qui-Gon thought grimly. /I suppose I might as well make myself comfortable. There could well be surveillance in here, so I'd better act the part. I wonder if there's a kitchen?/

He glanced between the two doors which led off from the main living area, and as if on cue, a housekeeping droid glided smoothly out of the one to his left. "Greetings," it said, the mechanical voice mellow. "I am KT49, and I am at your service. Mr. Gatt has left you a message. Do you wish to hear it?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said shortly.

A soft hum filled the room, and a fuzzy holo-projection of a powerfully-built blond man appeared in front of him.

"Quinn Tel-Gon," the hologram said. "I am Gan Gatt. I regret that I am unable to welcome you to my home in person, but I'm sure you understand the importance of security in my line of work. If everything checks out, we will do business tomorrow. Until then, you must consider yourself my guest. The droid in your suite will provide for any needs you might have, and the kitchen is well-stocked. Please feel free to relax and recover from your long journey. I look forward to doing business with you."

A faint whirring noise, and the holo-projection vanished. The droid glided a little closer. "Please let me know if there is anything you require of me, Mr. Tel-Gon. Would you like food and drink prepared? You must be tired after your journey, sir."

"A meal would be good," Qui-Gon said, nodding. He was hungry, and there was no point in refusing food - that would just look suspicious. The best thing he could do was just relax and act like he was enjoying the pampering. As a man hailing from a war-torn planet, Quinn Tel-Gon would no doubt appreciate a bit of relaxation. If he could not do business until tomorrow, then he ought to enjoy this unexpected luxury while it lasted.

"I will prepare a meal for you, sir," the droid said, sounding pleased to have something to do. "Do you have any preferences?"

"Not really," Qui-Gon said, shrugging. "Just - something simple."

"Very well, sir, I will try to comply with that request. The bedroom and refresher are through the door to your right. Please make yourself comfortable." The droid pivoted and glided back through the door it had come through.

Qui-Gon decided that he might as well make use of the said refresher. He was sweaty and dusty, and a shower would probably make him feel a lot better.

He turned and headed through the door to the bedroom, raising an eyebrow at the huge bed that dominated the room, then continued into the well-equipped 'fresher. A huge spa-bath, full of steaming scented water, took up a large portion of the room, but he saw to his relief that there was a shower cubicle in one corner. Although a soak might be nice, the bath smelled like at least four different floral perfumes, none of which he found terribly appealing.

He turned the shower on hard to let the water heat up, then wandered back into the bedroom, took off his boots and laid his arsenal of weapons on the bed - all except for his belt knife, which he took back into the fresher with him, just in case.

He quickly stripped off his grimy leathers and tossed them into the cleaning unit, then allowed himself the luxury of a very long, very hot shower. When he finally emerged, he found his now clean clothes waiting for him. He dried himself off and shrugged back into them, strapped on his belt and padded back through the bedroom into the lounge area. The droid was waiting for him.

"Your meal is ready, sir," it said. "Would you like to eat now?"

"Yes, now will be fine," Qui-Gon said, and wandered over to take a seat at the table. The droid vanished into the kitchen and appeared a moment later with a plate of food and a glass of a clear blue liquid. "The drink is harberry juice, sir, but if that is not to your taste I can bring you something else."

"That's fine," Qui-Gon assured it, and the droid inclined its metal head. "Please call me if you require anything else, sir. I will leave you to enjoy our meal." It glided away, back into the kitchen.

Qui-Gon ate slowly, considering his situation and running over his plans in his head. He would need to have his wits about him tomorrow if he was going to achieve his goal. He had hoped he would be able to move around a little, and hopefully find some things out about Gatt's operation, but it seemed that was not to be the case - not tonight at least. Even if he wasn't under constant surveillance, he had no doubt that if he attempted to leave these rooms he would be quickly apprehended. However, once he and Gatt had talked, he might be given more freedom. He would have to hope that was the case.

Once he had finished his meal he decided that the best thing he could do to preserve his cover would be to try to relax, and sat down on the couch to amuse himself with the entertainment system. After about half an hour of channel-surfing, the door to his suite suddenly hissed open.

Qui-Gon was on his feet in an instant, pulling his knife from his belt and whirling with lightning speed, ready to face any possible threat.

The only thing that came through the door, however, was the astrodroid he had brought with him from the ship. The door swished shut again behind it, and Qui-Gon caught only the briefest glimpse of the figure who had delivered it. It might have been the human who had driven them here, but he couldn't be sure.

He heard the soft click of the locking mechanism engaging again, sighed, and sheathed his knife.

The droid beeped merrily at him and Qui-Gon looked down at it, raising an eyebrow. "Well, you seem to still be in one piece," he said grimly, and the droid chirped its agreement.

/At least they didn't find my 'saber,/ Qui-Gon thought, relieved. "All right, well, we're stuck here for now. You can shut yourself down for a while if you like."

More chirping. Qui-Gon pulled the computer terminal off his belt and glanced at the translation of the droid's squeaking. He snorted in amusement. "I'm sure it wasn't very dignified. Have you got anything else to tell me?"

A soft beep that translated in the negative, followed by another apologetic one.

"Never mind. Go and recharge." With that, Qui-Gon took himself back to the couch, leaving the droid to find a spot to its liking. It took up residence beside the table and its lights dimmed as it closed its power circuits down.

After another hour or two of flicking through the various entertainment options, Qui-Gon decided he had had enough. He was tired, and while he was locked in here he might as well get some rest. He could easily maintain enough alertness to sense if anyone else entered the suite.

Switching off the entertainment system, he walked through to the bedroom and removed his belt and jacket. He slid his belt knife out of its sheath again and placed it under his pillow, then lay down on the bed and reached out to flick off the light on the bedside table. He slipped easily into the semi-trance state that the Jedi called restful-sleep-in-danger; his eyes closed but a part of his mind still alert at all times. He would be as rested in the morning as if he had slept normally, but he would know if anyone else came in.

The night passed uneventfully, and Qui-Gon used the time to relax and ready himself for the next day. Before he knew it, the chronometer beside the bed was telling him it was morning, and the overhead light in his room began to glow, faintly at first, then more brightly, simulating a rising sun. He got up and moved through a series of gentle stretches designed to loosen his muscles, then went into the 'fresher to ready himself for the day.

When he emerged, freshly showered and dressed again in newly cleaned clothes, he felt completely alert. The housekeeping droid glided in to inquire if he would like breakfast, and he replied in the affirmative. It asked what he would like to eat, to which he replied as he had last night - "Something simple."

The droid bustled off again, and barely five minutes later he was seated at the table with his meal and another glass of the blue juice. The droid came over as he was eating.

"Mr. Gatt wishes me to relay to you that your credentials have checked out, and he would be pleased to do business with you over dinner tonight," it said smoothly. "He is sorry it cannot be earlier, but he has pressing business which requires his attention until then. Will this be satisfactory?"

/Dinner tonight? So what do I do until then?/ Qui-Gon thought, and then repeated the question out loud.

"Mr. Gatt will be sending someone shortly to give you a tour of his home. He hopes you will feel welcome to avail yourself of any of the entertainments he can offer you. He is looking forward to meeting you in person tonight, and until then, you must consider yourself his honoured guest." The droid paused. "Will that be satisfactory, sir?"

Qui-Gon sighed. /More delays!/ "Yes, that will be fine," he said, not allowing his frustration to show in his voice. /I might as well make the best of it,/ he thought. /If I'm getting a tour, at least I'll get to have a look around, and maybe find out some things about this place./

With that in mind, he went back into the bedroom to finish getting ready, and had just donned the last of his weapons when there came a chime at the door, and he strode out into the main room just as it opened.

His visitor was a young human woman, probably in her early twenties, wearing a simple pale tunic and skirt. She smiled at him, but Qui-Gon could feel that she was frightened. "Mr. Tel-Gon, I am Darvala. Mr. Gatt has sent me to give you a tour of his home."

"All right," Qui-Gon said, nodding. The girl hesitated, and he raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Sir, Mr. Gatt has one further request," she began nervously. "Thus far, he has allowed you to keep your weapons with you as a sigh of good faith. Now he requests that you offer your own gesture of good faith and leave them in your suite for the remainder of your stay here. As you can see, you have not been harmed. Mr. Gatt has no desire to harm potential customers. Your weapons will not be touched or tampered with. He merely asks that you do not carry them outside your suite while you are here." She glanced up at him through her lashes, her gaze hopeful.

Qui-Gon regarded the girl steadily for a moment, his mind working overtime. Gatt was indeed a cunning manipulator.

He had wondered from the first why he had been allowed to keep his weapons. Now he saw that Gatt used that as a first attempt to build trust between them. Naturally, he did not want armed and possibly dangerous strangers wandering loose around his compound. But rather than disarming them straight off, he allowed his guests to keep their weapons, demonstrated that they would not be harmed, then asked them to give up the weapons voluntarily, counting on the fact that they would not wish to upset their host by carrying them after he had requested otherwise. A good start to a business relationship - and one that made sure Gatt had the upper hand.

And the girl was interesting, too - she had passed on the message hesitantly; as if she feared him. And she did fear him, a little, but he thought most of the fear she felt was directed elsewhere. Something else frightened her - something or someone. Gatt, probably, Qui-Gon thought.

She was, however, trying to make Qui-Gon feel powerful by playing up her fear of him. She was probably well-trained in how best to make the request to guarantee cooperation. Did she work for Gatt, or was she a slave? And was there even any difference?

/This whole place and everyone in it is untrustworthy,/ Qui-Gon thought. /I must be very careful./

"Very well," he said to the girl. "I will leave my weapons here, as a show of good faith. I imagine I am well outgunned even with them."

Darvala smiled at that. "I will wait for you here," she said lightly. "Take your time."

Qui-Gon turned and headed back into the bedroom to remove his weapons. He considered keeping the knife he had hidden in his boot, but decided not to. If it was detected it would just make them watch him more closely, while if he cooperated, they might relax their suspicions long enough to let him find out something.

Leaving his weapons on the bed, he went back out to the door. Darvala gestured for him to follow her and led the way down the hall.

The tour of Gatt's house took most of the day and served to greatly reinforce Qui-Gon's initial opinion that Gatt was a man who liked his wealth. There was a whole level devoted solely to various entertainments - huge holovid screens, spa pools, indoor sports courts and a large swimming pool were only some of the attractions. However, the atmosphere of barely checked fear in the house belied the frivolous exterior.

Qui-Gon could feel that fear rolling through the Force in waves from every slave they came across. The slaves were mostly barefoot or in flimsy sandals, dressed in simple pale tunics and trousers, and all wearing slim silver collars around their necks. Darvala wore no collar, but the band around her right wrist was of the same design, Qui-Gon was sure. He wasn't certain whether they were stun collars or identification tags, but he was quite sure they were a mark of slavery. So she was a slave, but perhaps a more trusted one, if she was allowed to personally entertain the buyers.

There were guards as well, outfitted in an almost military-looking uniform and all equipped with heavy blasters. They seemed to pay Qui-Gon almost no attention, but he could feel their eyes on him. He was obviously being carefully watched. /Damn,/ he thought. /That's going to make it difficult to sneak around at all. Well, I'd better just keep playing along, I suppose./

Darvala invited Qui-Gon to pass some time watching a holovid with her and when he agreed, proceeded to cuddle up at his side for the viewing, which led Qui-Gon to suspect that she was trying to seduce him. She was probably under orders to make herself available to whichever prospective buyer she was entertaining, Qui-Gon thought sadly. /Poor girl./

After that, she arranged for lunch to be served to them, and then took him up through the rest of the house to the roof, which held the gardens. They were really quite spectacular. The "roof" was actually a level in itself, but it was divided into covered and open areas, depending on what kinds of plants were growing there.

There were plants from many different worlds, some in specially equipped greenhouses, others growing in the sunlight of the open areas. Flowers burst forth in a riot of colour, backed by leaves of many different shades. Right in the centre there was even a little park, with small trees shading stretches of lawn that were littered with blooms. Qui-Gon didn't even want to imagine how much this had cost to create.

Darvala stood in the park, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, letting the sun fall on her face. "Isn't it beautiful here?"

"It is indeed," Qui-Gon replied quietly, and she looked up at him.

"You must not see much of beauty on your homeworld while it is in the midst of such a terrible war," she said, looking sympathetic. "I hope you will allow this place to take your cares from you for a little while, before you do business with Mr. Gatt."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I can try," he said. Darvala threw her head back once again, and he watched her curiously. There was something genuine in the movement that had not been present in most of her actions so far. "Do you like it here?"

"It's my favourite place," she replied simply, and there was an undertone of such longing in her voice that Qui-Gon winced inwardly. /Poor girl indeed. Slave or not, she is little better than a prisoner here. The garden probably makes her feel free./

He sighed. He could not let himself get distracted by one girl's unhappiness. There were more important things at stake here. And Darvala was smiling at him again, the moment of honesty gone. "Come, there is more to see. The gardens are very large."

She led him off through the rest of the gardens, then took him back down to the entertainment level and convinced him to watch another holovid with her, darkening the room this time and cuddling even closer to him, confirming his suspicion about the seduction attempt. Thankfully, she appeared to be waiting for him to make the first move, which he didn't.

By the time it was over, it was late in the afternoon, and she took him back to his room, telling him that Mr. Gatt would send someone for him when dinner was ready, and adding convincingly that she hoped she would see him later. Then with a calculated smile and a flutter of eyelashes, she left him alone.

Qui-Gon went to clean up a little in preparation for dinner, and the astrodroid beeped imperiously at him when he emerged from the bedroom. He glanced at the terminal for the translation. "Yes, you'll get to come to dinner with me. I need you there to tell Gatt what I want to buy, remember?"

The droid chirped again, and Qui-Gon shrugged. "I have no idea what we'll be having. What do you care?"

It beeped indignantly. Qui-Gon ignored it.

A few minutes later, the door chime sounded again, and Qui-Gon turned as it hissed open once again. This time his visitor was a young man in the guard uniform. "Greetings, sir," he said, bowing slightly. "Mr. Gatt has asked me to escort you to dinner."

"All right," Qui-Gon said, feeling his heart rate increase ever so slightly. He gestured to the astrodroid. "Come on," he said, and it glided over obligingly. "Lead the way," he told his escort, who nodded and turned to walk down the hall. Qui-Gon and the droid followed.

Their escort led them to the turbolift and took them up almost to the top floor - the one below the roof, Qui-Gon thought. Once there, the young man led them down several corridors to a set of double doors, and pressed a control. The doors slid open silently.

The young man stood back to usher Qui-Gon in, and he entered the room cautiously, the droid at his heels. The first thing he noticed was that the room was empty, but that there was another smaller door in the wall to his left. Assuming that Gatt would enter through that door, he turned to survey his surroundings.

The room he entered was a huge, richly-decorated rectangular chamber outfitted with white and gold hangings. The floor was paved with marbled cobblestones and a long, gleaming dining table sat in the centre of the room, with two places set, one at each end. A collection of comfortable couches sat at the far end of the room, in front of the wide diamond-shaped window, which faced the now-setting sun. The lights were kept low, but the light from the window bathed the whole room in a red glow.

Qui-Gon heard the door to his left hiss open and turned just in time to see a tall, powerfully-built man walk through it. He was at least as tall as Qui-Gon, possibly an inch or two taller, and very heavily muscled. His hair was yellow-blond, cropped short, and a long, thin scar ran down one side of his face. He was dressed simply in black, which made his pale skin look even paler, and he was smiling, although the scar across his cheek made it look more like a sneer.

"Quinn Tel-Gon, I presume," he said, offering his hand. "I am Gan Gatt. I apologise that I could not meet with you before this, but now we can get down to business. I hope you have enjoyed your stay so far?"

Qui-Gon nodded, keeping a smile on his face as he silently assessed the man with the Force. "Your home is very impressive," he said.

Gatt nodded, still smiling. "I like to live in comfort, and since I am often offplanet seeing to my other businesses, I like this retreat to be comfortable to come back to. Besides, my guests enjoy it, especially the ones such as yourself who hail from troubled areas. It can sometimes take a few days to get the shipments in and since they are paying me good money -" the smile widened "- I think I can at least provide them with a bit of fun."

Qui-Gon nodded, his mind racing. There was something strange about Gatt, he thought. For all his charm, there was something dark and almost - unstable - about him. Qui-Gon had no doubt that he could be very dangerous.

Gatt gestured to the table. "But please, have a seat, I have an excellent meal prepared. We can talk business while we eat. I'm sure you are anxious to proceed."

Qui-Gon sat down at one end of the table and Gatt sat opposite him. Slaves came in to serve drinks and the first course, and then departed hurriedly. Qui-Gon could practically taste their fear, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because of him. /So it is Gatt everyone is so afraid of. Is he a cruel master then, or is it something else?/

As they ate, Gatt began to talk business. "Well, you gave me a sketchy idea of what you were looking for via the subspace communication we had, so why don't we get into the specifics now. You tell me what, and how many, and I'll tell you how much."

Qui-Gon nodded, gesturing to the little astrodroid to come to his side and tapping a few commands into the computer terminal that linked to it. "I have a list of possibilities here, as well as quantities. We weren't sure exactly what you'd be able to get."

"You name it, I can get it, my friend," Gatt said calmly. "Why do you think my security is so tight? I'm the best arms dealer around. You just tell me what you're looking for. If you have the funds, I have the weapon. And if by some chance I don't have it, I'll get it."

Qui-Gon nodded, glancing down at the terminal. "Well, we want small arms, of course. Our supply has been badly run down by the war. Hand guns, blaster rifles. Something unusual would also be useful; projectile weapons or something like - something our opponents would not be expecting."

"Easily done," Gatt said, typing quick notes into a small datapad on the table beside him. "What else?"

"We were also hoping for some decent anti-aircraft guns, either portable or not, it isn't important. And mobile explosive launchers for our front lines."

Gatt nodded, making more notes. "Anything else?"

"Larger explosives. Whatever you have. And ammunition, and power packs."

"Of course," Gatt said. "All right, I'll show you what I can get along those lines and you can pick and choose. Then we'll talk money."

As Qui-Gon watched, Gatt pressed a control on his datapad and the centre section of the table's surface retracted, leaving a square hole in the metallic surface. With a soft whir, a small holoprojector rose out of the opening and projected a glowing display screen into the air above the table. Using the datapad, Gatt began to scroll through the options shown on the screen.

"All right, let's start with small arms," Gatt said, still pressing buttons on the datapad. "For hand guns, I'd recommend this one."

He touched a last control and a life-size hologram of a blaster weapon appeared in place of the display screen, revolving slowly so that Qui-Gon could see it from all sides. "This is the J-12 heavy blaster. It's one of the most reliable side arms available. Charge time is minimal, so it's good for heavy combat situations."

Qui-Gon eyed the hologram, checking out the gun's features. Gatt paused to let him observe it, then touched another button and a different gun appeared. "And for rifles, this one is probably the best; the K1-90 phase plasma rifle. It comes with an expanded charge pack and has a longer lasting power cell. Both of these guns are more durable than the average, so they'll take a lot of hard use before they quit on you. These models are both used by Republic agents in the outer rim territories because they're good for heavy fighting and can take more knocks."

He looked at Qui-Gon around the revolving hologram. "I have other models, of course, but for your situation I would recommend these ones."

Qui-Gon nodded. He recognised both models of gun, and Gatt was telling the truth about their capabilities. "Yes, I would agree with that. I've used both of those guns. Those should be suitable for small arms."

Gatt smiled approvingly, tapping at his datapad again. "What quantities were we talking about?"

Qui-Gon checked the readout on his computer terminal, searching through the data available to him. "Probably in the realm of 15,000 units of each."

"Fine." Gatt made more notes. "Now, you wanted something a bit more unusual. Projectile weapons, you said? If you're looking for something to get through blaster-ready defenses, I can show you a few models that you might be interested in."

Qui-Gon nodded for Gatt to proceed, and found himself being shown examples of several lethal-looking projectile guns.

"The VRK-2 is good," Gatt said, gesturing to the hologram. "It's a sniper rifle. It fires depleted iridium rounds; they'll punch straight through most blaster-proof armours." He pulled up another hologram. "Or there's the Cardin 580 variant assault rifle. This one can be loaded to fire explosive rounds, stun rounds, armour penetrating rounds and mini gas canisters. It doesn't have the range of the VRK but it's more versatile."

Qui-Gon selected one of the better projectile guns, but in smaller quantities than the blasters. Gatt noted down his choices and went on to display a selection of anti-aircraft guns. Qui-Gon listened carefully as Gatt explained the various merits of several weapons, displaying each one so that his client could see what he would be purchasing.

/Gatt is certainly an efficient salesman,/ he thought. It made sense. After all, Gatt ran several legitimate businesses as well, and had many years of experience.

His eyes narrowed as the next example was displayed. It took him barely a moment to recognise it for what it was. This was one of the weapons he had been told to keep an eye out for.

"This is the MR90 portable twin pulse EMP cannon," Gatt was saying. "This is new technology, very advanced. It's a shoulder mounted energy cannon that fires two pulses at the target. The first one sends a disruptive charge which weakens a portion of the shields long enough to let the second pulse pass through and disrupt the ship's systems. If you hit her right she'll be dead in the air."

Newly designed, barely past the testing stage, the gun Gatt was displaying was available only to certain select units of Republic troops. A shipment of weapons containing these guns had been stolen very recently, and Qui-Gon had been told to watch for them during his mission. This finally confirmed the theory that Gatt was selling stolen Republic weapons. Now all he needed was to find out who was telling him how to do it.

Qui-Gon made appropriate selections from the anti-aircraft guns and explosives that Gatt presented to him, and consulted his computer terminal about the quantities that would be needed. The slaves returned to serve the next course of the meal, and shortly after that the discussion turned to money. They haggled back and forth for a while, but Qui-Gon had been well briefed on how far to take the dickering and conceded at a price that, while still fairly exorbitant, was within the limit he had been advised to adhere to.

The bargaining concluded, Gatt leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. "Well, that takes care of the difficult part," he said. "Now it's just a simple exchange. Once payment is confirmed, I'll hand over the guns and off you go."

"Will I be permitted to bring my ship closer in order to load?" Qui-Gon asked. "It's quite a distance away."

"I'll send one of the men with you to fetch it tomorrow, and you can use my landing field. Having new customers land that far away is just a security precaution. We're actually quite hard to spot from here, so close to the mountains and all." Gatt grinned darkly. "Not that anyone on this rock cares what I do anyway."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Understandable when you're out this far. Koslos is much the same." He allowed his expression to darken. "It was, anyway."

"Mmm. Ugly business, that. I've had a few from Koslos buying from me this year. Only the well-funded ones, of course." His lips twitched. "I cost too much for the non-funded groups. Takes money to even find me." He glanced over at Qui-Gon. "A shipment that size will take me a couple of days to prepare, so I hope you will consider yourself my guest until everything is ready?"

"I appreciate your hospitality," Qui-Gon said, feeling a thrill of satisfaction. This was just what he had been hoping for. This meant he had a couple of days to try to find out who Gatt's Republic contact was. And as he was now technically a paying customer, he might be allowed a little more freedom to poke around.

Gatt nodded, looking pleased. "That's settled then. Now, how about dessert? And a few drinks, perhaps, to celebrate a successful deal?"

Qui-Gon accepted the offer, and Gatt summoned slaves to bring the food and drink. They had been darting in and out all through the evening, clearing plates away and supplying more, not saying a word. All of them had been fearful, and that fear was directed almost solely at Gatt.

Qui-Gon had not seen anything of the man yet except the pleasant face he offered a potential buyer, but Gatt made him uneasy for reasons he could not quite explain. There was definitely something dark about the man.

Three slaves entered the room bearing dessert and drinks, and Qui-Gon's gaze flicked briefly over each in turn. An older woman, a girl in her late teens and a young boy...

Qui-Gon's heart gave a sickening lurch.

It couldn't be. Force, it couldn't be. But somehow it was.

The boy was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Qui-Gon stared at the boy, horrified. How was it possible? How in the name of the Force had he ended up here, of all places?

The last time he had seen Obi-Wan had been nearly eight months ago, when he left Bandomeer after his mission there. Despite Obi-Wan's best efforts to convince him otherwise, he had refused to take the boy as his Padawan. Instead he had gone back to Coruscant and left Obi-Wan to begin his duties with the Agri-Corps. It was for the best, he had thought at the time. The boy was too angry, too undisciplined. It would be too risky to train him.

Obi-Wan had appeared to accept his decision, but Qui-Gon had seen the heartbreak in his eyes.

He had wondered, afterwards, if he had made the right choice, but he had ruthlessly quashed any doubts he might have had. What was done was done, and he could not change it now. He could only go forward.

And so he had, continuing to take the missions assigned to him and carry them out to the best of his abilities. He worked hard, trained hard, continued on his quest for justice.

And if his quest was occasionally interrupted by a vision of a miserable young face, the green eyes pleading for acceptance, he had managed to ignore it. What was done was done.

Except that apparently it wasn't, because it seemed his past had caught up with him yet again.

All these thoughts flew through Qui-Gon's mind in mere moments, although it seemed like an eternity as he stared at the boy in disbelief. Then, remembering his situation, he clamped down on his spiraling emotions, forcing his face back into impassivity. A swift glance at Gatt showed that the man had not noticed his distraction.

He looked back at Obi-Wan, keeping his face carefully blank. The boy had not seen him yet; he was keeping his head down and his eyes on the floor. It wasn't until he neared the table that his gaze lifted to glance briefly at Gatt and then at his guest.

He froze, his eyes widening in horror. A myriad of emotions flashed across his face as he stared at Qui-Gon for a long moment. Then he wrenched his gaze away, looking back down at the floor, schooling his features to calm.

Qui-Gon shot another quick glance at Gatt and was relieved to see that the man had not noticed Obi-Wan's reaction either, distracted as he was by the drink he was being poured. Qui-Gon could feel the shock pouring off Obi-Wan in waves, but the boy looked mostly calm. Impressive control, Qui-Gon thought. But then, the boy was Jedi-trained. What else did he expect?

He eyed the boy surreptitiously as dessert was served. Obi-Wan had both grown taller and lost weight, Qui-Gon saw, and his hair had grown out considerably from the short-cropped initiate style. But more visible to Qui-Gon than the physical changes was the air of defeat that hung over the boy like a cloud. The Obi-Wan he had known had been full of fire and hope and determination. This boy seemed merely a pale shadow of the one Qui-Gon remembered.

The older woman placed a plate in front of him and poured him a drink, and Qui-Gon nodded his thanks. Gatt was taking a large swallow from his own glass, which contained a particularly potent alcoholic beverage that he favoured. Qui-Gon had chosen something a little less lethal for his own drink.

Duties finished, the three slaves turned to depart, but Gatt's voice stopped them. "You - boy. Come here."

Obi-Wan turned back, his face carefully blank, and walked slowly across to Gatt's side while the two women scurried for the door, as if fearful that Gatt would call on them next. Shooting one lightning glance at Qui-Gon, the boy dropped gracefully to his knees at Gatt's feet.

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth and had to control a shudder as Gatt reached out a hand to stroke Obi-Wan's hair. The boy kept his eyes lowered, submitting to the petting, but Qui-Gon could see him trembling slightly.

Gatt continued to make conversation with Qui-Gon, all the while stroking Obi-Wan like a favourite pet. Qui-Gon had to fight hard to control the emotions that raged inside him. He could feel Obi-Wan's humiliation at being treated in such a manner, but the boy remained motionless. For whatever reason, he had clearly decided it was better not to fight.

Qui-Gon shuddered to think of what could have reduced the fiery boy he remembered to the defeated one he saw before him.

Gatt's glass was empty, and he motioned to Obi-Wan to refill it. The boy stood, reached for the bottle and began to pour, but his hand trembled slightly and a few drops of the amber liquid splashed across the tabletop.

Gatt moved so fast that it took even Qui-Gon by surprise. Springing to his feet in one smooth movement, he backhanded Obi-Wan savagely across the face.

The bottle flew from Obi-Wan's hand to shatter on the floor several metres away, and the boy himself went tumbling head over heels to land in a heap on the floor. He lay still for a long moment as Qui-Gon stared in horrified disbelief, calling on all of his control to keep himself in his chair and not intervene.

Gatt, his face as calm as if nothing had happened, sat back down in his chair, barely sparing a glance for Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon watched as the man picked up his drink and took a sip, appearing totally unruffled by the violence that had just occurred. So that was why the slaves were so afraid of Gatt, Qui-Gon thought grimly. /I was right, he is unstable./

After a moment, Obi-Wan shakily picked himself up. His right cheek was a livid red from the blow and already bruising. Visibly trembling, the boy walked slowly back over to Gatt's chair, dropping to his knees again at the man's feet and bowing his head.

Gatt extended a hand to stroke Obi-Wan's hair again, smiling slightly. "Good boy," he rumbled. "You're learning."

/Learning?/ Qui-Gon thought in anguish. /Learning what? To be struck without reason and then come back for more?/

He could barely contain his distress. Gatt had just brutally assaulted the boy and was now stroking him like some kind of pet. And Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan had scurried back to his feet like a kicked puppy.

To see the boy being treated in such a manner sparked a cold fury so powerful that Qui-Gon could hardly see straight. It took him several moments to centre himself in the Force again and release the anger he felt, pulling his emotions back down to a manageable level.

Gatt looked over at Qui-Gon, still petting Obi-Wan's hair lazily. "He's one of my newer ones. Still learning how to behave. Go and greet my guest, boy," he said sharply to Obi-Wan. "And be polite, or I'll whip the hide off you."

Obi-Wan rose to his feet and padded silently down to the other end of the table, his eyes on the floor. He did not meet Qui-Gon's gaze, but simply went to his knees at the Jedi's feet, his head bowed, despair radiating off him like a beacon. Gatt continued to talk and Qui-Gon struggled to contain his revulsion, feigning a calm he did not feel.

"I was going to offer you your pick of them for the night," Gatt was saying. "I find they provide a useful distraction for my customers while they wait for their shipments to be ready. Keeps them from becoming too bored..." He grinned at Qui-Gon. "They've all been well-trained, of course."

Qui-Gon's mind was racing. If Gatt was going to offer him his choice of companions, did that include Obi-Wan? Perhaps if he showed an interest in the boy, Gatt would offer Obi-Wan to him for the night. Then he might be able to find out just how the boy had ended up here...and also find a way to smuggle Obi-Wan out with him when he left.

Because one thing was positive, there was no way he was leaving this place without him.

With that in mind, he reached down to take the boy's chin in his hand and tilt his face up, forcing Obi-Wan to meet his eyes. "Pretty," he said, keeping his face impassive as he looked the boy up and down. His eyes narrowed as he noticed that Obi-Wan actually wore two collars - as well as the slim silver band Qui-Gon had seen on most of the other slaves, he also wore a thicker black one. "What's the extra collar for?"

"The black one? It's an inhibitor collar. The boy's a bit of a Force-user. The collar keeps him from doing anything he shouldn't."

Qui-Gon looked back down at the collar, feeling a fresh wave of horror. Using the Force, he probed experimentally at Obi-Wan and found that his Force signature did indeed feel strange - it was fuzzy, almost...muted. The collar was clearly inhibiting his Force abilities.

Qui-Gon ruthlessly squashed the anguish he felt. His distress would not help Obi-Wan. The only way to help the boy was to play along.

Still holding the boy's chin in one hand, he ran the other hand over Obi-Wan's hair. "A Force-user? He's not dangerous, is he?" he asked. Most people who could not use the Force were at least a little worried about those who could.

"Not with that collar on," Gatt said, clearly unconcerned. "You can take him for the night if you like. Or I can bring in some more for you to choose from. Hell, take a couple. I like to keep my customers comfortable."

"He'll do," Qui-Gon said, keeping his voice level. He forced a sly grin onto his face. "Why sleep alone when you don't have to, eh? Plenty of time for that once I get home." He cringed inwardly at what he was saying, hoping that Obi-Wan would know he was acting.

"My thoughts exactly," Gatt said, nodding. "Well, since our business is concluded I think I can leave you to find your own entertainment for the night." His gaze passed over Obi-Wan, and he grinned knowingly. "If he doesn't please you, or you decide you want another to keep him company, just tell your housekeeping droid, and it'll relay the message. If he doesn't behave himself, you can punish him, but don't do anything permanent or you'll have to pay for him. Understood?"

"Of course," Qui-Gon replied calmly. He stood, and Gatt followed suit, crossing to Qui-Gon's end of the table.

"I'll find someone to take you back to your room," Gatt said. "Oh, and as a safety precaution the rooms are kept locked to guests, so if you want anything tell your droid and it'll see that you get it. The door won't open for you and if you try to force it it'll set off an alarm. Just a precaution, you understand. Can't be too careful in my line of work."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon murmured. /Damn, so much for having a poke around while everyone's asleep. I'll have to try to do it during the day. If they ever let me out of my rooms./

"In that case, it's been a pleasure doing business with you," Gatt said, shaking Qui-Gon's hand again. He went to the door to summon a guard, and in moments the same young man who had escorted Qui-Gon to dinner appeared.

"Take Mr. Tel-Gon back to his rooms," Gatt said. "And you, boy," he directed at Obi-Wan, "behave yourself, or you'll answer to me."

Obi-Wan shot a quick, careful glance up at Gatt, then rose to his feet, keeping his head lowered. The guard led the way from the room, and Qui-Gon followed, with Obi-Wan and the little astrodroid trailing behind him.

They were escorted back to Qui-Gon's suite, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "Can we speak freely?" he asked in a low voice.

Obi-Wan looked up at him. "Yes," he said quietly. "There's no surveillance, except for the housekeeping droid. Gatt doesn't care what goes on in here, so long as you don't try to leave the suite. The door's alarmed."

"Bedroom then, away from the droid," Qui-Gon said, and led the way through from the main room. Once he and Obi-Wan were inside, he shut the door and engaged the locking mechanism. Then he turned back to Obi-Wan, allowing his distress to show for the first time. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. He looked up at Qui-Gon briefly, then shrugged, dropping his eyes again. "I guess so, anyway."

Qui-Gon ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Obi-Wan, what happened? What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"Does it matter?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

"Of course it matters! I can't -" Qui-Gon stopped, taking a deep breath and fighting for control. "Obi-Wan...I want to help you. Please, tell me what happened."

Obi-Wan sighed, then began to speak. He sounded tired, defeated, and it make Qui-Gon's heart ache to hear it. "The Agri-Corps workers on Bandomeer have to make special supply runs every month or so, for some of the specialised equipment they use. There's a crew that handles it, but a bunch of the others go along every time, to help out with the loading and stuff. I'd been there for about three months when they asked me if I'd like to go along for the ride on the next run. I was bored, so I was happy to."

The boy paused for a moment, looking up at Qui-Gon as if expecting a rebuke. Qui-Gon said nothing, simply gesturing for him to continue, and after a moment he did so.

"The run was routine. There had been no problems, and we were nearly there. But then we were attacked. Boarded. The crew was killed. All of the Agri-Corps workers - we were all pretty young, I guess that's what they were looking for - were taken to their ship." He shook his head tiredly. "We didn't understand what they wanted us for - there weren't even that many of us, and the ship wasn't anything fancy either. But the next thing we knew, we were being tagged and sold off to a slave-dealer. They made a killing on us because we were Force-sensitive."

"Because you were Force-sensitive?" Qui-Gon echoed, horrified at the thought.

"Apparently, for all the good it did us. At first they kept us so drugged we couldn't have used the Force anyway, and then after the slave-dealer had us he slapped these collars on us." He tugged at the black collar around his neck.

"It stops you from using the Force?"

"Yes. It doesn't work very well, though, so I can still feel it. I just can't do anything much with it."

Qui-Gon shook his head, disbelieving. He had left Obi-Wan on Bandomeer because he had thought it would be safer for all concerned. And perhaps it had been, for him. Obi-Wan, however, had been abducted, sold and enslaved. And by the sound of it, he had been taken because he was Force-sensitive. Qui-Gon was sickened by the very thought.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, willing calm into his voice when he spoke again. "And then you were sold to Gatt?" he prompted.

"We were shipped offplanet first - I'm not even really sure where, but somewhere in the mid-rim I think. I imagine that's where the dealer did most of his trading, out of the way of the core systems. Then Gatt showed up, looking for new merchandise, and he bought me. I don't know what happened to the others."

"How long have you been here?"

"Nearly four months." The bleak expression on Obi-Wan's face told Qui-Gon all he needed to know about those four months.

"And has Gatt - have you been - " He couldn't bring himself to ask it, instead he gestured meaninglessly around at the room, at the bed, then back at himself. Obi-Wan understood what he meant.

"Has he handed me out to other buyers? Yes. All the young ones get passed around. Gatt does quite a lot of business." His voice was toneless, his expression carefully blank. "Gatt trains his slaves up himself. If you don't please the people he gives you to, you get a refresher course. It's far, far better to just try to be pleasing."

Despite the calm façade, Qui-Gon saw the boy shudder slightly at the memory, and gritted his teeth. When he spoke, his voice was low and urgent. "Obi-Wan, you're not staying here. I'll only be here for a couple of days, and when I leave I'm taking you with me. Do you understand? I'm not leaving you here."

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long moment, his eyes reflecting doubt, suspicion, and a hopelessness that made Qui-Gon wince. But he met Obi-Wan's gaze squarely, hoping that the sincerity behind his promise showed in his own eyes.

After a moment, he boy looked away again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked flatly, changing the subject.

"Gatt is selling stolen Republic weapons." Qui-Gon didn't see any reason to be secretive with Obi-Wan. He knew he could trust the boy; he had never doubted that for a moment. Besides, when he left he was taking Obi-Wan with him anyway. He'd find out what was going on soon enough.

Obi-Wan didn't seem surprised by the information. "I wondered where he was getting them. He sells everything; including really sophisticated weapons. He's supposed to be the best arms dealer around out here." He looked up at Qui-Gon again. "So you're after Gatt?"

"Not really. Someone is informing him, someone inside the Republic and probably in quite a high position - someone who knows when and where the weapons are being shipped. I'm here to find out who."

Obi-Wan nodded. "So you're undercover, buying arms from him?"

"Yes. I'm posing as a member of a militia group. The idea was that I'd be able to do some poking around while I'm waiting for the shipment, find some things out."

Obi-Wan frowned. "That won't be easy. Gatt's very paranoid, so the security here is tight. Buyers are watched constantly. He doesn't trust anyone - that's why the suites are always locked, and why he hands his slaves out like candy. He figures if he keeps the buyers busy in the bedroom they won't have time to cause any trouble, or want to go sneaking off somewhere they shouldn't."

"If he's so paranoid, why is there no surveillance in here?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Because so long as you stay in here, he doesn't care what you do. That's what I'm for; to keep you amused so you'll stay in your suite. It's only if you try to leave when you shouldn't that there'll be a problem."

Qui-Gon winced inwardly at Obi-Wan's blunt description of his purpose. He thought of Obi-Wan being handed over to other, real buyers; probably rough types who would not care in the least that Obi-Wan was only a boy...

Qui-Gon's fists clenched, and he fought back another surge of anger. /I will get him out of here,/ he thought fiercely. /Even if I have to buy him!/ He took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke again. "Gatt strikes me as being more than a little unstable."

"He's a bloody nut-job," Obi-Wan said bluntly. "The slaves are all terrified of him."

"With good reason, if that little display I saw is anything to go by."

Obi-Wan's hand drifted up to gingerly probe his bruised cheek. "That was nothing. He wasn't even really annoyed." He shot a quick glance up at Qui-Gon, then looked away again, seeming to steel himself. "You...you'll have trouble finding anything out, I think, with the security Gatt has. At the very least it'll be dangerous. But..." He took a deep breath. "But I might be able to." He risked another glance at Qui-Gon, his eyes wary, as if expecting to be rejected outright.

/Hardly surprising,/ Qui-Gon thought grimly, /considering how many times you've done exactly that./ He looked carefully at the boy. "How?"

"I can get into Gatt's quarters. He's - um - taken an interest in me, recently. The guards won't think it's odd if I'm in there."

"If he's taken an interest in you, why did he give you to me for the night?"

"That's what he does to the ones he...fancies," Obi-Wan said flatly. "It keeps them on their toes. The more he likes you, the more buyers he offers you to." The tone of his voice spoke eloquently of what he had endured.

Qui-Gon had to grit his teeth against the fury that rose up within him. /Anger will solve nothing!/ he told himself sternly. Willing himself to calm, he considered Obi-Wan's suggestion. "How would you find the information? I doubt he'll just have it lying around."

"If it's anywhere, it'll be in his computer. He has a special terminal in his rooms, where he does all his work. All his communications go there, orders, shipments...everything. If it's not there, I would swear it won't be anywhere."

"If there's so much important information on it, it must have a good security system, surely? How would you get in?"

"A lot of the security is that no one goes into Gatt's rooms except Gatt and his slaves. His system is password-protected - and I know his password."

"How did you find that out?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I watch him when he puts it in. He changes it all the time, but I've been in his rooms a bit recently, since he decided he liked me. I saw him do it a couple of days ago."

"What is it?" Qui-Gon asked.

"It's random, I think." He rattled off a complex string of numbers, letters and symbols that would definitely have taken a Jedi's talents to pick up from watching someone enter it. He looked up at Qui-Gon, his gaze hesitant. "The problem would be getting into his rooms. And - well, I could do that a lot more easily that you could. You can't get out of here without an escort, and they'll be watching you every second."

Qui-Gon thought for a moment. /I don't want to endanger him...but I may well need his help. If Gatt's as paranoid as he says, it's going to be very difficult for me to find out anything./

He looked carefully at the boy. "I do not want to put you in danger, Obi-Wan. But you are right, it will be very difficult for me to find out what I need to if security is as tight as you say. So, if you wish to help me, I must accept. But - " He raised a warning finger, fixing Obi-Wan with a stern look. "You must promise me that you will not take any unnecessary risks. I will not have you harmed for my sake. Is that understood?"

Obi-Wan looked surprised, but he nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"All right then. We only have a couple of days until the shipment I've ordered will be here. When do you think you will be able to get into Gatt's quarters?"

"He'll probably summon me tomorrow, when you get taken to get your ship. I'll see what I can find out then."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I wish you did not have to put yourself at such risk, Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan just shrugged, saying nothing, and Qui-Gon felt a sudden surge of grief for the boy, and an equal rush of anger at the random cruelties of the universe. He calmed himself with an effort yet again, resigning himself to a night spent in meditation. "Well, we should get some rest then. I don't know about you, but I could use it."

Obi-Wan nodded. He glanced uncertainly at the bed, then back at Qui-Gon. "It'll look better if I sleep in here - in case someone comes in or something - but I can take the floor if you like."

"Don't be ridiculous," Qui-Gon said. "That bed's big enough for six. We can share." He realised how that might sound to Obi-Wan, after what he had been through, and shot him a look of concern. "Unless that would trouble you. We don't have to."

To his surprise, Obi-Wan gave him a faint, lopsided smile. "No, that's OK. It is a big bed." To show his willingness, he walked across to the huge bed and tugged the covers down on one side, then pulled off his shirt and climbed in, flipping the covers back over himself.

Qui-Gon had to take a deep breath as he caught a glimpse of the lash marks across Obi-Wan's back, but he refrained from commenting. He went across to the other side of the bed, unbuckling his belt and dropping it over a chair. He stripped off his jacket and boots, then lay down - on top of the bed rather than in it, hoping that it would make Obi-Wan feel a little more safe.

He reached out to snap off the light on the bedside table and a moment later, Obi-Wan did the same on his side. Steadying his breathing, Qui-Gon drifted slowly into a state of deep meditation, which would eventually end in sleep.

Obi-Wan lay awake, listening to Qui-Gon's steady breathing on the other side of the bed, his thoughts in turmoil. It seemed impossible that Qui-Gon was here. Impossible. And yet, somehow he was here.

Over the last four months, Obi-Wan had slowly but surely given up hope of ever being rescued. He and the others were doubtless presumed dead by the Agri-Corps, and they would duly have informed the Temple, who would have broken the news to his friends. There was no reason for anyone to think that he might be alive, and thus no reason to look for him. And so, forcing himself to be logical, he had accepted that no one would be coming for him.

He had then entertained the thought of trying to escape, but he knew it was unlikely to succeed. What with the slave collar, which had a tracking device, the explosive implant that had been placed in his body somewhere, and the blasted Force-inhibiting collar, he wouldn't get far. And even if he managed to get the collars off and the implant out, he was many hundreds of kilometres from civilization. Even with his Jedi training he couldn't make it that far without supplies.

Besides, the tarnwolves would probably get him before he even made it past the forest.

As the true hopelessness of his situation had become clear to him, the stubborn determination that had previously aided him had finally, reluctantly, quit on him.

That stubborn streak had helped him to survive his capture and subsequent enslavement, the distress of the Force-inhibiting collar, the indignity of being sold at auction like an animal, even all the nightmarish humiliation and abuse he had suffered at the hands of Gatt and his buyers, but it seemed it had finally run out. And without it, he had simply lost hope. The added misery of the Force-inhibiting collar meant that he couldn't even call on the Force for comfort, and before long, the only emotions he felt were despair and a dull, tired hopelessness that overrode everything else.

When Gatt took a sudden interest in him a few weeks later, Obi-Wan found he could hardly summon up the energy to care. He just kept his mouth shut and tried to give Gatt as few reasons as possible to abuse him.

A small part of him had thought that perhaps the very best thing he could do would be to make Gatt angry enough to kill him - it had happened before; if Gatt was angry enough he no longer cared about valuable merchandise, just about snuffing the life out of the object of his rage. But to give up in such a manner went against everything he had ever been taught.

He didn't know why he even cared about his training anymore - perhaps it was merely reflex. But for whatever reason, he found he could not simply throw his life away. Gatt would lose interest eventually - he always did - and then...then, he didn't know.

But he knew he didn't want to die.

So he had gone on, day by day, drifting further and further into a strange combination of numbness and quiet despair. He allowed Gatt to use him for whatever twisted purposes he wished without putting up a fight, telling himself that it was easier that way, easier not to fight; fighting just meant pain and humiliation and more of Gatt's detestable version of "training".

He had almost begun to forget that his life had ever been anything but this. The memories he had of the Jedi Temple seemed hazy and distant, like a dream. At times, he wondered if perhaps they were.

Until he came face to face with a man who brought all his memories flooding back with crystal clarity.

When he had first looked up and seen that Gatt's newest buyer was in fact Qui-Gon Jinn, he had thought he must be imagining things. But there was no mistaking it; even though Qui-Gon looked very different to how Obi-Wan remembered him, it was most definitely him. The horrified recognition in Qui-Gon's eyes had been merely confirmation.

Qui-Gon had managed to school his expression and Obi-Wan had done the same, realising that whatever Qui-Gon was doing here, he was clearly undercover. He had managed to keep a semblance of calm, but he couldn't help but feel a sharp stab of humiliation at having Qui-Gon witness him groveling at Gatt's feet.

Then he had screwed up; his nerves had got the better of him and he had spilled Gatt's drink while pouring it. The resulting blow had knocked him flying, and he had thought he felt a pulse of anger from Qui-Gon, but the Force-collar made it so hazy and indistinct that he couldn't be sure. After a moment, he had crept back to Gatt's feet, knowing that it would be much worse if he didn't.

Then Gatt had sent him down to Qui-Gon, telling the Jedi that he was going to offer him his pick of slaves for the night, and Obi-Wan had known at once that Qui-Gon would select him, if only to find out how he had got here. He wasn't looking forward to relating the tale, especially not to Qui-Gon, but what could he do? Tell Gatt he didn't want to go? Not likely.

As he expected, Qui-Gon had feigned interest in him, and the next thing he knew he was being shunted off to Qui-Gon's rooms. Once they were safely away from the housekeeping droid, the resulting conversation between them had gone pretty much as Obi-Wan expected, except for one thing: Qui-Gon had promised he would get him out of here.

For some strange reason, Obi-Wan had not even considered that possibility. He wondered if it was simple self-preservation; his subconscious trying to protect him from getting his hopes up. It seemed likely. He knew Qui-Gon, after all, and knew that although the man didn't think much of him he would never willingly leave Obi-Wan in slavery.

But for all Qui-Gon's obvious sincerity, Obi-Wan had a great deal of trouble believing that he might, just might have been saved. /Self-preservation again,/ he thought with a sigh. /Stupid subconscious./

To take the focus off himself, he had asked about Qui-Gon's mission, and was not terribly surprised to find out that Gatt was dealing in stolen Republic weaponry. But when he realised that Qui-Gon was going to try to find out sensitive information, information that probably only Gatt and maybe a few of his men would know, he knew he had to do something. Qui-Gon had no idea how tight the security was in this place. If he tried to sneak around, he would surely be caught, Jedi powers or no. No Jedi could mind-trick a whole complex full of people, most of which were armed and very suspicious.

Then an idea had come to him, almost startling in the fact that it made him feel almost...hopeful again. Perhaps, just perhaps, Qui-Gon would let him help. After all, he could get into Gatt's rooms, and into his computer as well. Gatt was careful, but he tended to ignore slaves unless they angered him, and it had been easy for Obi-Wan to surreptitiously watch the first time he was present when Gatt entered his password. With his Jedi training, he was able to follow the flurry of keystrokes and work out what the password was.

He had thought perhaps it might come in handy, in the days when he was still holding out hope of escaping. Eventually, he had given up that hope, but for some reason, he had continued to watch for Gatt's password every time he got the opportunity. It had given him something to do, at least. But whatever the reason, the fact remained that he did know the password, and although he could tell it to Qui-Gon, he could get into Gatt's rooms a lot more easily that Qui-Gon could. So perhaps, just perhaps, Qui-Gon would let him help.

He had made the offer tentatively, and was more than a little surprised when Qui-Gon accepted.

And now here he was, lying in the darkness, desperately trying to deal with this new sense of purpose, spurred on by an emotion he had thought well and truly lost to him.

Hope.

He listened to Qui-Gon's quiet breathing for a few minutes, trying to focus his thoughts. It was hard, since he was not able to use the Force, but he was grateful that at least he could still feel it. If he had been entirely cut off from it, he was not sure he would have been able to bear it.

/There's not really much I can do except go forward,/ he thought finally. /I have offered to help him, and I will try to do that. And maybe...maybe he will be able to help me. Maybe it is possible. I don't know...but I guess I can hope./

With that, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax. No doubt he would need all the strength he could get for what was coming.

When Qui-Gon woke the next morning, the room was already beginning to lighten. He glanced over at the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. He could hear the sound of the shower running in the 'fresher and was a little surprised that Obi-Wan had managed to get up without waking him. Apparently his senses didn't register Obi-Wan as a threat.

A few minutes later the boy appeared, wrapped in a towel and rubbing a second one over his damp hair. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I was awake. I thought I might as well get up."

"Nothing to apologise for," Qui-Gon said reassuringly. He slipped quietly past the boy into the fresher to take his own shower, thinking that Obi-Wan might appreciate the privacy.

By the time he came out, Obi-Wan was fully dressed, his still-damp hair combed neatly back from his forehead. He looked terribly young, and Qui-Gon felt a flicker of unease at the danger he might be sending the boy into.

/He will be all right,/ he told himself. /He's strong, and resourceful. He wouldn't have made it this far if he wasn't. And after this is all over, I'm getting him out of here and Gatt will never touch him again!/

He was a little surprised at the intensity of his emotions. He was feeling fiercely protective of Obi-Wan, and the very thought of Gatt getting his hands on the boy made him grit his teeth in anger. Breathing deeply, Qui-Gon glanced over at the boy as he finished getting dressed. "Any idea what will happen today?"

Obi-Wan met his gaze, his green eyes serious. "Gatt will send someone to take you to get your ship. He'll probably have me come see him while you're doing that. It would be good if you put in a request with the housekeeping droid to have me for tomorrow night as well - that way I can come back here if I find out anything."

"All right, I'll do that." Qui-Gon hesitated, looking at the boy. "Obi-Wan...remember what I said. Please be careful."

"I will. Don't worry, I don't want to tangle with Gatt if I can help it."

Qui-Gon nodded, but he still felt uneasy. If he had a choice, he would have made a run for it now and taken Obi-Wan with him, mission or no mission. Unfortunately, duty had to come first.

He sighed. "Well, we might as well see if we can get some breakfast," he said, opening the bedroom door and waving Obi-Wan through it, then following him out.

As he walked out into the main room, the little astromech droid beeped indignantly at him. He glanced down at the computer terminal and raised an eyebrow. "That's not very friendly," he said sternly to the droid. It chirped smugly and he decided to ignore it.

The housekeeping droid appeared from the kitchen a moment later. "Would you like breakfast, sir?" it asked.

"Yes, for two," Qui-Gon said, indicating Obi-Wan, who had gone back into slave mode; remaining silent and keeping his eyes down. The droid inclined its head and glided back into the kitchen.

During breakfast, the droid came back to inform Qui-Gon that Gatt was sending someone to take him to fetch his ship. It also relayed to Obi-Wan that Gatt wanted him to come to his rooms once Qui-Gon had left. Qui-Gon chipped in here and requested Obi-Wan's company for tonight as well, and the droid relayed that message to Gatt.

/All going to plan so far,/ Qui-Gon thought. /So why do I feel like something's going to go wrong?/

Shortly after breakfast, there was a chime at the door, and it slid open a moment later to reveal the human driver who had brought Qui-Gon here originally.

"I'm supposed to take you back to get your ship," he said gruffly. "You ready?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, rising to his feet. Obi-Wan did the same, and slid silently over to the door, ducking around the man to go through it. He turned briefly, meeting Qui-Gon's eyes for a moment, then vanished off down the corridor, no doubt heading for Gatt's rooms.

Qui-Gon sent a heartfelt plea to the Force to keep Obi-Wan safe, then turned to follow the other man as he led the way out into the hallway, the door swishing shut behind them.

"I'm Pharl," the man said shortly, as they strode down the hall.

"Quinn," Qui-Gon replied in kind, trying to keep things friendly.

Pharl nodded briefly, and the rest of the walk passed in silence as they made their way back down to the ground level and through the entrance hall. As they came through the main doors, Qui-Gon saw a speeder waiting for them at the bottom of the front steps. Pharl climbed into the driver's seat, and Qui-Gon jumped in beside him. A moment later they were off, speeding back in the direction of Qui-Gon's ship.

The journey back to the ship passed much the way the journey from it had, except that this time it was daylight, so Qui-Gon could see his surroundings better. The driver made no attempt to initiate conversation, and Qui-Gon followed his example, instead occupying himself with watching the terrain flying past them.

Some three hours later, they pulled up next to Qui-Gon's ship, and he was relieved to see that it looked exactly as it had when he'd left it. Pulling the computer terminal off his belt, he entered a command, and the ship's ramp began to lower.

Pharl handed him a datapad with a printout of coordinates on the screen. "That's the coordinates of the house, just in case," he said. "There's a landing field out behind it; you'll see it from the air easy. Park yourself there, and someone will meet you."

"All right," Qui-Gon said, climbing out of the speeder. "Thanks for the ride."

Pharl nodded to him, then turned the speeder back around and roared off, puffing up dust in great clouds.

Qui-Gon walked quickly up the ramp into the ship. Once inside, he went straight to the cockpit and began powering up the engines. The familiar hum of the ship's engines filled the cockpit, and he ran a quick systems check to make sure everything was functional. Once he was satisfied, he programmed the coordinates he'd been given into the ship's computer. A few minutes later he was lifting off, heading for Gatt's compound.

The journey was much shorter by air, and soon Qui-Gon was hovering above Gatt's landing field. He had not seen it before, hidden as it was at the rear of the complex, nestled in beside the mountain. The landing field was fairly sizeable, and was empty except for one smaller and much newer looking cargo ship. There were several large buildings ringed around the field, however, which could well have contained other ships.

Qui-Gon brought the ship down smoothly in a clear area, and powered the engines down. He got up from the pilot's chair and walked quickly down to the small medical bay in the rear of the ship. Once there, he snatched up a medical scanner and a small laser-scalpel, concealing them carefully in a pocket inside his jacket. After a moment, he grabbed a couple of tubes of bacta and placed them in the pocket too.

/That should be enough to get that blasted implant out, in a pinch,/ he thought. He had been considering the logistics of taking Obi-Wan with him, and removing the explosive implant was top priority. /I'll have to do that tonight, I think. I don't want to have to do it in a rush./

Walking back to the main hatch, he lowered the ramp and walked down onto the paved ground, looking up at the sky. It was past midday now. He wondered where Obi-Wan was, and tried to suppress the anxiety he felt. Obi-Wan would be all right. He had to be.

Another man approached as he reached the bottom of the ramp. "Tel-Gon?" he questioned, and Qui-Gon nodded. "Everything OK with your ship?"

"Yes, it's fine."

"Then I'm supposed to take you back to your room. If you want anything, or want to do anything, tell your droid and it'll have someone come to escort you."

"All right," Qui-Gon acquiesced, and followed the other man as he led the way back into the main compound. /Obi-Wan was right, the security is tight,/ he thought grimly. Clearly he was not going to be allowed to do anything unattended except sit in his quarters. Any time he had been outside his rooms, he had been escorted and closely watched. Nothing too intrusive, but he was sure that any attempt to sneak away would be immediately noticed.

/It seems Obi-Wan may be the only one who can find out what I need to know,/ he thought. /It must be the will of the Force./

He winced a little at that, putting all that Obi-Wan had suffered down to the will of the Force, but he was a Jedi. If he stopped believing in the will of the Force, what else was left?

He was escorted back to his rooms, and the housekeeping droid informed him that Obi-Wan would be sent back to attend him that evening. If he wanted anything else, he had only to ask for it.

Feeling the need to get some exercise, if only to distract himself from his persistent concern for Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon asked if it would be possible for him to take a walk outside. The droid paused for a moment, apparently relaying information, then nodded. "Someone will be sent shortly to escort you, sir," it told him.

True to the droid's word, there was a chime at the door about fifteen minutes later, and it slid open to reveal a young man dressed in the uniform of Gatt's guards. "I'm Tev," he said. "You wanted to take a walk?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "I'd appreciate the exercise."

"Bored, huh? Don't blame you. Come with me, I'll take you for a hike up into the mountains. There's a good trek that only takes a few hours."

Feeling that it might be useful to see a bit more of the surrounding area - surely more useful than it would be to sit in his quarters and wait for Obi-Wan to come back - Qui-Gon nodded in agreement, and followed Tev out the door.

After he had left Qui-Gon's rooms that morning, Obi-Wan had hurried straight to Gatt's suite, knowing better than to keep the man waiting. The guards outside Gatt's rooms had recognised him and let him pass, and he had pressed the chime on Gatt's door. The door slid open a moment later and he walked in, taking care to keep his eyes down.

Gatt was seated at the computer station, pressing keys in a flurry of motion and muttering darkly under his breath. He was clearly not happy about something, and Obi-Wan's heart sank. When Gatt was like this - which was fairly frequently - it spelled bad news for anyone unlucky enough to be in his vicinity.

Quickly, he hurried over to Gatt and knelt at his feet, hoping that such a display of submission might cool Gatt's temper a little. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, you could never tell with Gatt.

/That's because he's crazier than a sewer rat on spice,/ Obi-Wan thought grimly. /I'd better watch myself if I don't want to make him angry./

He remained kneeling for several minutes before Gatt acknowledged him. That acknowledgement came in the form of a sharp slap across the face that rocked him back on his heels, wincing.

/Random violence,/ Obi-Wan thought unhappily. /Great, he's in one of those moods./

"It seemed you pleased my buyer, boy," Gatt said. He sounded almost calm, but Obi-Wan could hear the hint of madness beneath. "He's asked for you again tonight. You must not have been too obnoxious. Did you behave yourself?"

"Yes, sir," Obi-Wan said softly, trying to sound fearful. Gatt loved fear. It wasn't hard to do, either.

"Good. It seems you are learning after all. Now go get me a drink, and be quick about it!"

Obi-Wan scurried off to the bar and poured Gatt a glass of the beverage he favoured. /Please, just get drunk enough to ignore me,/ he prayed. /Either that, or drunk enough to pass out./

He placed the glass on the desk beside Gatt and knelt on the floor again, keeping his eyes down, trying to be as inoffensive as possible.

Some six hours later, he was still kneeling in the same spot, calling on every patience mantra he knew to keep from fidgeting. Gatt had not budged from his workstation once since Obi-Wan had arrived, tapping furiously at the keyboard almost the entire time. He had wanted Gatt to ignore him, but now that he was, Obi-Wan was finding it rather hard to bear.

It wasn't like he hadn't done this before - Gatt liked having a slave around to do his bidding, but sometimes he would get caught up in whatever it was he was doing and forget about the slave for hours at a time. Obi-Wan had been in that position multiple times since Gatt had taken an interest in him. However, all those previous times he had been so blanketed by despair that he hardly cared where he was. He had just tried to be as quiet and still as he could be so as to earn himself less punishment. After all, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to be.

But now, with his mind buzzing with this new sense of purpose, it was taking all of his willpower to keep still. He had...Force, he had a mission. And more than that, he had hope. He was almost giddy at the very thought of it.

Gatt suddenly let out an inarticulate growl of fury, slamming his hand down hard on the desk, and Obi-Wan jumped, feeling a thrill of adrenaline waltz through his system. Apparently all was not well in the world of Gatt's business dealings. A moment later, Gatt shoved his chair back and got up to pace the room, muttering angrily to himself.

/Damn,/ Obi-Wan thought nervously, watching the man pace. /This isn't good./

Gatt suddenly turned and strode off into the bedroom that adjoined his main office area, calling roughly to Obi-Wan to follow him. Obi-Wan shut his eyes for a moment. He knew what such a summons would entail.

Steeling himself, he got slowly to his feet, wincing as his stiff knees protested the movement. He tried to work some of the tingling out of them as he followed Gatt into the bedroom. Once inside, he went quickly across to where Gatt was sitting on the bed and knelt once again, trying not to grimace as his sore knees met the floor.

Gatt reached down and tilted Obi-Wan's face up so that the boy had to meet his eyes. "You're still pretty, boy," he said, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Part of why I picked you in the first place. But it was that stubborn look on your face that really clinched it. You just begged to be broken."

He ran a hand over Obi-Wan's hair, smoothing it back from his face. A moment later that hand lifted and came down in a brutal backhanded slap, knocking Obi-Wan to the floor.

Obi-Wan lay there, gasping, momentarily stunned by the blow. As he pushed himself slowly back to his knees, he was beyond surprised to realise that there were tears in his eyes.

He had become used to being struck; Gatt was notoriously unstable and violent with it, as well as sadistic. But while before Obi-Wan had been able to bury any distress about his treatment under a fog of numbness, now his emotions seemed to have suddenly come back online. He was hit with a sudden wave of anger at the undeserved blow, and tears of pain and frustration were the direct result. Blinking them back, fighting for calm, he forced himself to stay on his knees, his head lowered.

He heard Gatt give a snort of laughter and gritted his teeth. /I hate you!/ he thought furiously. /I hate you!/

Gatt's hand found his hair again, stroking, then moved around to caress his cheek. The hand lifted again, preparing for another blow, and Obi-Wan reacted without thinking. As Gatt brought his hand down, he ducked out of the way, rolling to his feet a few metres away from the bed.

He stood, staring across at Gatt, his eyes wide. Oh Force, what had he done?

Gatt glared at him for a long moment, his pale eyes snapping fire. Then he rose silently to his feet and began to advance on the boy.

Obi-Wan took a step backwards, feeling a jolt of real fear. In this kind of mood, Gatt had been known to kill slaves who disobeyed him, and ducking out of the way of a blow almost certainly counted as disobedience in Gatt's book.

"It seems you haven't learned quite as much as I thought, have you, boy?" Gatt said grimly, the words hissing off his tongue like acid. "I haven't quite managed to beat all of that stubbornness out of you. It would appear," he bared his teeth in a vicious parody of a grin, "that you need another lesson in how to behave."

Obi-Wan backed up even further, truly frightened now. He had never seen Gatt look quite this insane before. He wanted to run - but where could he go? The guards would catch him before he even made it down the hall.

Gatt suddenly leapt forward - for all his size he could move with the quickness of a striking snake - and slapped Obi-Wan brutally across the face, sending the boy reeling. He did not even have time to pick himself up before Gatt was on him, dragging him to his feet with an iron grip on one arm.

The hand flashed down again, backhand this time, and Obi-Wan's head snapped sideways with the blow. He staggered, but Gatt's grip on his arm kept him upright.

Gatt dragged him across the room, stopping under a fixture in the ceiling from which there dangled a long metal rope with a set of binders on the end. He yanked on the cord and it slid easily downwards. A moment later he had locked the binders around Obi-Wan's wrists.

Gatt strode away to the wall and punched a button on the keypad there, and the rope retracted back into the ceiling, pulling Obi-Wan up onto his toes. Gatt halted the mechanism when Obi-Wan was standing on tiptoe, barely able to touch the floor, then came back to circle around him.

Obi-Wan hung there, trembling, sick with fear and dread. If only he could use the Force! If only, if only...

But he couldn't. There was no escape from this.

Gatt walked back over to the bed and pulled something from the cabinet beside it. Obi-Wan blanched at the sight of the whip Gatt produced, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest. Desperately trying to get a handle on the terror coursing through him, he reached out frantically for the Force, praying that if he couldn't use it to defend himself, he could at least ground himself in it and try to remain strong through what was coming.

The Force slipped nebulously through his mind, sliding away from his frantic mental clutching, and he almost wept.

/Qui-Gon,/ he thought suddenly, fiercely. /Think of Qui-Gon. He will get you out of here. He promised. You just have to survive this. He promised!/

The terror ebbed, just a little, but enough for him to find a small measure of calm. He reached out to the Force again, praying silently for guidance, and felt the soothing wave of it break over him, muted, but there.

/Oh, thank you. Thank you./

He couldn't use it, but he could feel it. It would have to be enough.

His grip on the Force didn't stop him from whimpering as the first blow scorched its way across his shoulders, but it allowed him to keep hoping. And as the blows fell, one after another until he was screaming in agony, he held onto that hope, and carried it with him when he finally fainted.

When Obi-Wan woke, it was to find himself sprawled face-first across the bed. His face felt stiff and sore, and even opening his eyes made him wince. However, that ache was almost inconsequential when compared to the flaring sheet of agony across his back when he tried to move.

He forced himself to relax again, taking deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside. It took a long time, but eventually it did, a little, and he tried once more to push himself upright. He finally managed to make it to a kneeling position, although the effort brought tears to his eyes, and it took several minutes for his vision to clear enough for him to look around.

The room was empty, and Obi-Wan let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He had no idea where Gatt had gone, but he wasn't here, and right now that was all Obi-Wan cared about.

He glanced at the window. The sun was low in the sky, and he wondered dimly how long he'd been out. Gatt had certainly done a number on him this time, that was for sure. Everything - everything - hurt, although his lacerated back was definitely the worst of it.

Wincing, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he climbed gingerly off the bed and stood, trying to convince his wobbly legs to keep him upright. It took several long minutes before he was able to step away from the bed without feeling like his knees were about to buckle.

He straightened up painfully and glanced over at the door that led back out into Gatt's office area, wondering if Gatt was out there. If he was...well, he had no desire to face the man again, not given Gatt's mood and his own current state of disrepair.

But if he wasn't, he might be able to sneak a look at Gatt's computer, and maybe find out what Qui-Gon needed to know.

Torn, he cast another nervous glance around the room, shuddering as his gaze passed over the binders that hung from the ceiling. That decided him. Even if Gatt was out there, he needed to get out of this room. He was supposed to attend Gatt's new "buyer" tonight anyway. Surely Gatt wouldn't detain him.

He limped to the door and keyed it open, then looked cautiously out into the room beyond. He saw Gatt immediately, back at his computer terminal, and swallowed hard. /Damn,/ he thought unhappily.

Still, there was nothing for it. He didn't want to stay in here, that was for sure. Besides, Gatt had already beaten him senseless. Usually an act of violence like that would keep him satisfied for a while.

Moving as quietly as he could, he crept out into the room, heading for the door. But before he got halfway there, Gatt's voice froze him in his tracks.

"Up, are you?" Gatt said shortly, sounding unconcerned. Obi-Wan breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief, realising that the anger was gone from Gatt's voice. Apparently beating Obi-Wan unconscious had calmed him down.

/Psycho,/ Obi-Wan thought bitterly, turning to face the man, making sure he kept his eyes down. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"That better have taught you a lesson, boy," Gatt went on. "Because next time I might just wring your scrawny neck and save myself the trouble."

"Yes, sir," Obi-Wan breathed, gritting his teeth.

"Get going then. You're supposed to be servicing my buyer. Go on, move it."

"Yes, sir." It was the only safe response. Relieved, Obi-Wan scrambled for the door as fast as he could go, which in his current state was not very fast. When the door slid shut behind him he leant his forehead against the wall for a long moment, shaking with nerves.

And damn it all, he hadn't managed to find out anything!

/I have to get back to Qui-Gon,/ he thought. /I can try again later, when I know Gatt's not in his rooms. Right now...oh, Force, right now I want to lie down./

He hauled himself painfully upright again, and started slowly down the hall, heading for Qui-Gon's rooms. He had only rounded the first corner when a whisper from his left drew his attention.

"Obi-Wan!"

He turned, and saw Darvala coming towards him from the adjoining corridor. She hurried up to him, exclaiming softly over the marks on his back. "Oh, Gods, Obi-Wan, what a mess! What did you do?"

"Ducked," he said painfully. Darvala was the only person in the compound that he actually trusted. She had been kind to him from the start, teaching him how to stay out of Gatt's way and avoid punishment as much as possible. She had been here for nearly two years now, and despite her hatred of Gatt, she put on such a convincing face to him that he was almost fond of her, even allowed her some small measure of freedom. Whenever she could, she tried to use that freedom to help Obi-Wan.

Now she was shaking her head sadly as she took in his battered state. "Bastard," she mouthed, so quietly Obi-Wan could barely hear it. Then, a little louder, "Come on, I'll help you to the infirmary. I have a few minutes."

"No," he said. "I have to go - I have an appointment." He gestured meaninglessly across and down, in the vague direction of Qui-Gon's rooms.

She frowned. "The buyer? Like this?"

"Gatt's orders," he gritted out. "Come on, Darvi, just help me."

She hesitated, unnamed emotions flickering across her face. "All right," she said finally. She came to his side, supporting him, and Obi-Wan found he could move much more easily with her help. They made it to Qui-Gon's rooms quickly, and he pulled himself free of her hold.

"Thanks, Darvi. Go on, or you'll get in trouble. I'll be fine now."

She shot him a quick, sad glance. "I hope so," she said grimly. A moment later she was gone.

Obi-Wan pressed the chime on the door, then placed his palm on the ID pad and waited for it to open. As soon as it slid aside, he hurried forward into the suite, but had to stop suddenly as another wave of dizziness threatened to overtake him. The walls seemed to bend and shift, and he reached out a hand to steady himself, but found nothing to grab. He heard footsteps to his right and tried to turn towards them, but the light was suddenly far too bright and he had to squint to make anything out at all.

The last thing he saw, dimly, was Qui-Gon's horrified expression as he passed out again.

Qui-Gon had been battling a growing sense of unease during the whole of the walk Tev had taken him on. It had been a good hike, up into the mountains on a path that apparently went on for quite a way. They had walked for nearly two hours before Tev had finally said they ought to turn back. Qui-Gon had acquiesced easily, as the feeling that something was wrong back at the compound had been growing steadily stronger.

As they started back, he wondered fleetingly if he should have left at all, but logically, what could he have done if he had stayed? Sat in his quarters and waited for Obi-Wan to come back while worrying himself senseless? Very useful.

He did feel better for having got some exercise - clearer-headed and more in tune with the Force. Unfortunately, he had the distinct feeling that the Force was trying to tell him that all was not well. He wasn't sure what, or why, but something had gone wrong. He was sure of it.

The trip back passed without incident, and before long they were back at the compound. Tev escorted Qui-Gon back to his room and there he stayed, pacing nervously up and down until he realised what he was doing and made himself stop. He glanced at his chrono. It was evening now, if barely. Where was Obi-Wan? Had something happened?

/Stop it,/ he told himself firmly. /Worrying will get you nowhere./ He rubbed a hand over his face. /But something's gone wrong. I know it./

The housekeeping droid came over to deliver a message from Gatt, telling him that his shipment of weapons should be ready either tomorrow evening or the next morning at the latest. Qui-Gon acknowledged this, cursing silently as he realised how little time he had left to accomplish his mission. The droid asked him if wanted a meal and he declined, feeling too anxious too eat, and took himself off into the bedroom to lie down. At least it was better than pacing.

He was growing steadily more agitated, and all the meditation in the galaxy wouldn't have made a stick of difference at this point. He was so convinced that something was wrong that when he heard the door chime from the bedroom he actually jumped.

He hurried out into the main room again, and when he caught sight of his visitor he couldn't hold back a gasp. Battered and bruised, weaving on his feet, Obi-Wan turned to face him and abruptly keeled over sideways, his eyes rolling back into his head. Qui-Gon leapt forward to catch him, grabbing the boy just before he hit the floor. His hand came away sticky with blood from Obi-Wan's shoulder and he swore under his breath as he took in the lacerations across the boy's back. His face a mask of cold fury, he swept the boy up in his arms and carried him into the bedroom, locking the door behind them.

He carefully laid Obi-Wan facedown on the bed, mindful of his injuries. Yanking the medical supplies out of his pocket, he ran the small scanner over the boy. It was not as sophisticated as larger scanners were, but it would tell him what he needed to know.

To his relief, the injuries were not as bad as they appeared. The vicious welts along his back and shoulders had drawn blood, but they were all sealing over by themselves. Obi-Wan would be very sore for quite some time, and he would have some impressive bruises on his face, but there was nothing overtly dangerous. With some judicial use of the Force, Qui-Gon would be able to speed the healing along.

Obi-Wan was stirring, his eyelids flickering as he came back to consciousness. He opened his eyes and looked up at Qui-Gon in alarm, which quickly faded to relief as he recognised him.

"Sorry," he gritted out, wincing as he tried to roll over. Qui-Gon put a hand on his neck to prevent him and he stilled, grimacing with pain. "Couldn't find anything out. Gatt didn't leave his terminal at all, except to beat me senseless."

"Don't worry about it," Qui-Gon said brusquely. "I haven't had any luck either. They never take their eyes off me unless I'm in here."

"I did warn you," Obi-Wan said painfully.

"Yes, and it seems you were right." Qui-Gon took a deep breath, releasing some of his anxiety to the Force. "For now, let's see what we can do about the mess you're in."

"I'll be all right."

"Yes, but I can make you a bit more comfortable. I've got bacta, and I'll do some Force-healing on you. That should speed things up a bit. Then I'm going to see if I can find that implant and remove it. All right?"

Obi-Wan nodded, looking surprised. "All right. I wondered what you were going to do about that."

"I should be able to find it with the Force, if I'm careful, and we'll just have to hope it's somewhere easy to get at. For now, just try to relax. We need to get that shirt off you."

Removing the shirt was not pleasant, since it had stuck to the cuts on Obi-Wan's back. Qui-Gon tried to help it along by dampening it and washing away the blood, but it was still a rather long and painful process. Obi-Wan bore it well, not making any sound apart from a few muffled yelps, although he had to bite down hard on the bedcovers on several occasions to keep from yelling out loud.

Finally, it was off, and Qui-Gon busied himself with washing the wounds and smoothing bacta over each one. Now that he knew Obi-Wan was not seriously injured, the relief he had felt was slowly being replaced by guilt, and anger.

/I let this happen,/ he thought grimly. /I put him in the position to let that - creature - hurt him again./

He breathed deeply, trying to come to terms with the anger he felt. Right now, if he had Gatt in front of him, he would have been hard-pressed not to dispatch the man then and there.

"It wasn't your fault," Obi-Wan said suddenly, startling him, and he looked down at the boy in surprise. "What?"

Obi-Wan had turned his head and was regarding Qui-Gon with serious green eyes. "It wasn't your fault. I got careless. Gatt went to hit me and I ducked. I should have been more careful."

Qui-Gon held the boy's gaze for a long moment, feeling a tug of Force within him. After a moment, he recognised the feeling. It seemed that the bare beginnings of the bond he had formed with Obi-Wan on the way to Bandomeer were still in existence. The sensation brought with it a myriad of emotions, and while some were pleasant, the darker ones - betrayal, hurt, disillusionment - took priority.

Qui-Gon sighed, pausing in his ministrations to rub a hand over his face. His head pounded. Guilt and fear, fear and guilt, different sides of the same coin. Would he ever be free of them?

He felt the Force swirl around him and gratefully let it flow through him, easing his confusion. He tried to release some of the distress he felt, and was reasonably successful. Calmer, he went back to tending the wounds on Obi-Wan's back, giving the boy a reassuring smile. He still felt a flare of anger every time he looked at the damage Gatt had done, and let it slowly ebb out of him into the Force, at the same time promising himself that Gatt would never get his hands on Obi-Wan again. Not if he had anything to say about it.

After the wounds were tended and Obi-Wan more comfortable, the boy rolled onto one elbow and looked up at Qui-Gon, chagrined. "Sorry I passed out on you," he said.

Qui-Gon snorted. "Don't be silly. It was hardly your fault."

"It doesn't hurt as much now. Thank you."

"It'll be better still once I do some healing on it."

"I'm sorry I couldn't find out anything," Obi-Wan said. "I'll try again tomorrow, when Gatt's not around. The guards won't be bothered about me going into his rooms. If they ask, I'll just say he told me to wait for him."

"No you won't."

"What?"

"I said, no you won't," Qui-Gon said firmly. "I don't want you going anywhere near Gatt again if you can help it."

"But I have to - you won't be able to get that information!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

"I shall have to find a way. Right now, you're injured and I do not want you near Gatt again. Is that understood?"

"What if he summons me?"

"I'm going to put in a request that you attend me until I leave. I'm sure Gatt won't mind, it's only one more day. Than when I leave, I'm taking you with me."

"One more day?" Obi-Wan questioned. "How do you know?"

"Gatt said the shipment will be ready tomorrow night or the next morning. He works fast."

"He's got it all stored in other compounds, elsewhere," Obi-Wan said. "He just flies it in when he needs it, in case he ever gets raided." He looked up at Qui-Gon, his brow furrowed. "If that's all the time you have, then you've got to let me help! You won't be able to get into his rooms, the security is just too tight."

"I said no, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said sternly. "I've already let you get injured once, and I don't plan to do so again. You may be feeling better but you're nowhere near recovered yet. Gatt is a dangerous man. I will find a way to get the information I need."

"But - "

Qui-Gon held up a hand. "No buts. And no more talking. I'm going to see if I can get that implant out."

Obi-Wan looked mutinous, but was apparently too tired and sore to argue any more, and subsided. Qui-Gon then turned his attention to finding the implant. "I'm going to see if I can track the placement of the implant with the Force," he told Obi-Wan. "Just lie still and try to relax."

Obi-Wan did his best, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes, slowly sinking himself into a light trance. Using the Force, he scanned Obi-Wan's body, looking for anything unnatural. It was not an easy thing to do, and it took him three passes before he finally located it, at the back, just below Obi-Wan's right hip. He opened his eyes and examined the area, and found that he could see a very faint, very tiny scar.

"Got it," he said. "Hold still for me, all right?"

He picked up the scanner and keyed in a command, then directed it at the area containing the implant. "I'm going to try to remove it now," he told Obi-Wan. "I've deadened the nerves there temporarily, as much as I can, but it may still hurt a bit. Just try to hold still."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, and Qui-Gon saw him take a firm grip on the bedcovers.

Using the small laser-scalpel he had brought, Qui-Gon managed to remove the implant without too much trouble. It was a tiny, almost flat disc, and once inserted was almost impossible to detect by any normal means. Qui-Gon placed it gently on the bedside table. As long as he didn't tamper with it, it shouldn't cause them any problems.

Obi-Wan had endured the procedure with clenched teeth, as despite the nerve-deadening action of the little medical scanner, it had still hurt quite a bit. Nothing he couldn't handle, but it hadn't been pleasant, especially not when he was in a fair amount of pain already.

Qui-Gon applied bacta to the small wound, and settled back to do some Force-healing on the boy. "It'll be easier if you're asleep while I do it," he told Obi-Wan. "If you'll let me, I can put you under."

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment, then nodded. "All right."

Qui-Gon locked eyes with the boy, calling on the Force to emphasise his words. "Sleep, Obi-Wan."

A moment later Obi-Wan's eyes drifted shut, and he relaxed into sleep.

Qui-Gon dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, closing his eyes again. Slowly, he let himself drift back into a trance, focusing the Force to aid in Obi-Wan's healing. A long time later, when he opened his eyes again, he could see the improvement. The lacerations would still take a while to heal completely, but they had sealed over and looked less angry.

Obi-Wan was still fast asleep. Yawning, Qui-Gon decided that he should probably get some sleep himself. The healing had worn him out. Plus, toorrow was very likely to be his last chance to get the information he needed, and it appeared that it wasn't going to be at all easy. No doubt he would need all the rest he could get.

He got up and went to the closet, hoping to find some spare blankets. There was a pile of them, and he took one and moved back to the bed to lay it gently over Obi-Wan, who slept on, oblivious. Qui-Gon went around to the other side of the bed and tugged off his boots, then lay down on top of the bed. He was asleep almost instantly.

Obi-Wan woke abruptly to darkness, unsure of where he was. He tried to roll over and sucked in his breath sharply as pain flared across his shoulders and back. With the pain came memory, and he lay back, realising that he must be in Qui-Gon's rooms. He turned his head, and could just make out Qui-Gon fast asleep on the other side of the bed, one hand pillowed behind his head and his face turned away. He glanced over at the luminous chrono beside the bed and saw that it was still very early.

Obi-Wan lay still, considering. Qui-Gon had not believed him when he had told the Jedi that he would not be able to get the information he needed on his own. Gatt's compound was too secure.

If Qui-Gon knew what he was looking for, it might have been possible. But as it was, he would not only need to get into Gatt's rooms, but also get into his computer system and then search through piles of data until he found what he wanted. It would just take too long, longer that Qui-Gon would have before he was discovered missing. There was no way he would be able to do it without getting caught. Jedi powers were one thing, but it wasn't like he could mind-trick everyone in the compound! And while he did not doubt that Qui-Gon would be capable of fighting his way out, Gatt and his contact would then be forewarned, and would no doubt promptly cover their tracks. If the informant was as high up in the Republic government as Qui-Gon had indicated, he might well be able to cover up any trace of wrongdoing even if Qui-Gon did have evidence to the contrary.

No, the only person who would be able to get that information without tipping Gatt off was Obi-Wan, and he knew it.

Which left him with a problem: Qui-Gon had basically forbidden him to do so. Which was extremely, extremely frustrating.

/He's concerned for me, that's all,/ Obi-Wan told himself. /He feels that he put me in danger and that's why I got hurt. Really, it was my own stupid fault for not watching what I was doing. I should have just let Gatt hit me, I learned that lesson when I first got here!/

Qui-Gon was always good at guilt, he mused. He still hadn't got over his guilt about Xanatos, even after all this time.

/That's why he wouldn't take me as a Padawan, I think, at least in part,/ Obi-Wan thought sadly. /But there it is: I'm not his Padawan. I'm under no obligation to obey him. I do want him to get me out of here - oh, Force, do I! - but I know he won't refuse to take me with him because I disobeyed him. And if I don't disobey him, he's never getting that information. Not without tipping Gatt off about what's going on, and then it'll likely be useless anyway./

He sighed heavily. /Hell, I don't even know if I'll be able to find it. But at least I have a chance./

That decided him. A chance was better than nothing. He glanced again at the chrono beside the bed and realised that if he was going to go, it had better be now. Gatt worked out early every morning in his private gym, and he would probably be leaving for that workout fairly soon.

Moving carefully so as not to disturb Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan pushed the blanket aside and climbed gingerly off the bed, wincing at the movement. He looked around for his shirt and found it on the floor, but grimaced in distaste as he held it up and saw the tears and bloodstains. /I'll have to go and get changed first, and tidy myself up, otherwise I will look suspicious./

As quietly as he could, he crept to the door and opened it, then scurried out into the main room, shutting the door again behind him. The little astromech droid chirped softly at him from a corner of the room, and he hurried over to it.

"Tell him that I have gone to get what he needs," he said in a low voice, making sure his words would reveal nothing to anyone but Qui-Gon. "And that I'll be back."

Another soft beep. He hoped it was an affirmative.

"Thank you," he whispered, and hurried to the door, placing his palm on the scanner so that it would let him out. The door opened at his touch, and he ducked out into the corridor. A moment later, the door hissed shut behind him.

Obi-Wan headed for the slaves' quarters at the rear of the house, moving stiffly and painfully as his body protested the abuse it had suffered yesterday. He knew his face must be a mess, but his appearance didn't even rate a curious glance from the guards he passed, who were quite used to seeing recently beaten slaves wandering around.

Once he got to the slaves quarters, he quickly changed his clothes and tidied himself up a bit. The bruises on his face were going to be quite spectacular, he noticed, but it was hardly an unusual sight. Gatt's temper was well-known.

With a last glance at himself in the mirror, he headed back up in the direction of Gatt's rooms, trying to project his usual aura of beaten misery. He walked as fast as he could, knowing that would seem normal - all of Gatt's slaves hurried, especially if they were going to see the man himself.

He reached the corridor leading to Gatt's quarters and took a moment to steel himself. He was playing with fire here, he knew. If he was caught...

/I won't get caught,/ he told himself firmly. /I can't afford to get caught!/

Taking a deep breath, he headed down the corridor towards Gatt's rooms, keeping his head lowered. He walked past the guards without even looking at them, as he usually did, and after a single cursory glance, they ignored him. The door to Gatt's suite slid smoothly open for him and he hurried inside, quickly glancing up to scan the room and finding it empty. The door hissed shut again behind him, and he allowed himself a brief, heartfelt sigh of relief.

He cautiously checked the other rooms that led off from the main room - the bedroom, the 'fresher, even the small balcony that looked out over the little internal courtyard. All of them were empty.

/All right, Kenobi,/ he told himself firmly. /You've got one chance at this. Don't blow it./

He hurried over to Gatt's computer terminal and powered it up. A password prompt appeared, and he took a deep breath.

/You saw him do it two days ago. You know it's right. He wouldn't have changed it again so soon./

He sincerely hoped that was the case, because he was fairly sure that an incorrect password would trigger an alarm. He had one chance to get it right. Before he could lose his nerve, he typed in the password he had last seen Gatt use.

There was a brief pause, during which Obi-Wan thought his heart might actually stop beating, he was so nervous. It was mere seconds, yet it seemed like an eternity before the screen flashed once and displayed a single line of text.

Accepted.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, trying to distill the adrenaline rush, as the computer started up, displaying the interface that Gatt worked from. A moment later, he had set to work, searching for some hint of who Gatt's informant was.

Qui-Gon woke suddenly, eyes snapping open, his nerves jangling with alarm. He swiftly scanned the room, relaxing only a little when he saw no immediate threat. There did not seem to be any danger here. So what had woken him?

A moment later he had his answer, as he realised that Obi-Wan was gone.

Obi-Wan let out his breath in frustration as yet another file turned up nothing. He was scanning through Gatt's communication files as fast as he could, knowing that his time was growing shorter by the second. Gatt usually worked out for a couple of hours, but Obi-Wan didn't even know for sure when he had left this morning. He could be back at any time.

His hands shaking, his body tingling with nerves, Obi-Wan pulled up yet another file and continued to search.

Qui-Gon paced the bedroom, swearing under his breath. Damn the boy! He was going to get himself killed!

He had made himself check the 'fresher and the main room, but he had known even before the little astrodroid relayed Obi-Wan's message to him that the boy had gone. And he knew exactly where he had gone, too. Now he was pacing the room in agitation, see-sawing between anger at Obi-Wan and worry for him, wanting desperately to go to his aid, but knowing that would only put the boy in more danger.

/He's going to get himself killed,/ he thought angrily. /And I don't dare go charging out and try to rescue him, because if he hasn't been caught yet, that will ensure that he is!/

He turned back for another circuit of the room, feeling the Force thrill through his veins like lightning. Something was going to go wrong. He could feel it.

Obi-Wan opened another file, steeling himself for disappointment. After a moment, though, his eyes widened. This was it! This was what he had been looking for!

/Communication from Senator Van-Amat of Corellia to Gan Gatt, super-high security channel, details follow of weapons shipments for the next two months! Yes! This is it!/

He wrenched open drawers in Gatt's desk, pushing items aside until he found a stack of disks. Grabbing one, he shoved it into the computer and saved the whole file onto the disk. Whipping the disk out again, he stuffed it deep into the pocket of his pants, turned back to the screen and began to close down the files as fast as he could.

He had almost finished when he heard the door to Gatt's suite suddenly hiss open.

In his rooms, Qui-Gon suddenly stopped dead, feeling his anxiety spike up into real fear.

/Obi-Wan,/ he thought desperately, turning towards the door in an agony of indecision. /Oh, Obi-Wan. What's happening?/

Obi-Wan whirled at the sound, turning towards the door just as Gatt strode in. The man stopped dead just inside the door, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Obi-Wan, taking in the situation at a single glance.

Obi-Wan was frozen, barely able to breathe, his eyes wide with fear.

Gatt's expression hardened into one of fury, and in one smooth movement he pulled his blaster from it's holster, pointed it straight at Obi-Wan, and fired.

Qui-Gon jolted as if stung. The Force was positively screaming at him now, howling through his mind like a raging tornado. In an instant, he knew what he had to do. He dashed out into the main room, stopped in front of the little astromech droid and snapped out a command. The droid beeped, complying, and a moment later his lightsaber was smoothly ejected from the metal surface. Grabbing it, Qui-Gon stood still for a long moment, reaching for the Force and extending his senses.

/Where?/ he asked silently, urgently. /Where?/

The answer came to him in a blinding flash of insight. Whirling, Qui-Gon shouted a last order to the little droid and bolted for the door.

Obi-Wan threw himself sideways as the blaster bolt came hurtling towards him. Even though he could not use the Force with the collar on, he could still feel it, and his reflexes had been honed by years of Jedi training. The bolt missed him, slamming into the wall behind him as Obi-Wan rolled to his feet.

One lightning glance around him told him that there was no way he was getting past Gatt. The only possible chance of escape was to run from him. Blocking out all the pain from his injuries, letting instinct take over, Obi-Wan spun on his heel and ran for his life.

Another blaster bolt slammed into the wall beside his head as he hit the doors to the balcony at a dead run, wrenching them open and flinging himself through onto the balcony itself. The balcony was only one storey above the little garden courtyard, but Obi-Wan knew he would still have to be careful when he jumped. Shooting one panicked glance behind him, he sent a silent prayer to the Force, scrambled up onto the railing and leapt off.

Qui-Gon dashed down the corridor, dimly hearing the alarm on his door screaming behind him as he ran. He had had to cut his way out with his lightsaber, but he was no longer concerned with appearances. The only thing that mattered now was getting to Obi-Wan.

Lengthening his stride into an all-out run, he sprinted down the corridor in the direction his instincts told him to follow.

Obi-Wan hit the ground and rolled, ignoring the sharp flare of pain from his lacerated back and coming swiftly to his feet again in a large flower bed. Not daring to look up at the balcony, he bolted for the door on the other side of the courtyard. Blaster bolts crackled around him as Gatt gained the balcony and continued to fire at him.

Obi-Wan slammed his hand down on the ID pad beside the door and it hissed open. He ducked through it, dimly hearing Gatt's furious shouts for his guards from the balcony above, and knew that very soon every guard in the compound would be after his blood.

/Don't think,/ he told himself. /Just run./

The door opened onto the main kitchen, and Obi-Wan sprinted through it, hearing startled cries from the slaves working there as he dashed between them. From above, he heard the general alarm begin to sound.

Qui-Gon turned the corner into the next corridor just as two guards came running down it towards him, weapons drawn. Both immediately started firing at him, and Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and deflected the bolts back at them. A bolt clipped one of the guards in the shoulder and he fell with a cry, his blaster skittering away across the floor. The other man took a shot to the chest and collapsed backwards a moment later.

Qui-Gon upped his pace to a Force-aided run and swept by the next two guards who had arrived in a blur of motion.

Obi-Wan pelted through the corridors, keeping to the least well-guarded ones he knew, away from the central areas of the house. Once out of the kitchen, he cut through into the slaves quarters first, gaining startled looks from the people within. No one tried to stop him, though, and he made it through the long dormitory and out the other side. Coherent thought had ceased; his mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: escape.

He turned a corner into another corridor and had to quickly change direction when several guards came out of a nearby room with their weapons drawn, summoned by the alarm. If he had had more presence of mind, he might have tried to just walk past them and fake confusion; he was just a slave after all. But the fight-or-flight response had well and truly kicked in, and as soon as he saw them he simply wheeled about and ran the other way.

It took a moment for the guards to realise that he must be what was all the fuss was about, but when he turned and ran from them they promptly gave chase. Blaster bolts whizzed over his head and he ducked reflexively, stumbling a little, then picked up his pace.

He skidded around a corner and realised he had come upon the start of the back staircase. Gatt had a fondness for staircases, so as well as the turbolifts there were stairwells from top to bottom on each side of the house. The stairwells were not as well guarded as some areas of the house because of their infrequency of use. The back staircase, which was close to the slaves quarters, was probably the least used of them all.

It took a mere split second for Obi-Wan to realise this, and then he was pelting up it as fast as he could go.

He could hear the guards behind him giving chase, and knew that before long one of them would think to use their communicator and get backup to come and head him off. He tried to increase his pace, but his abused body was now starting to tire rapidly. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer.

As he came to the next floor, he saw a chair sitting by the door and snatched it up, flinging it back down the stairs behind him, barely even slowing his pace. He heard a series of crashes as it fell and a curse from one of the guards. Another blaster bolt hit the wall beside him and he tried to move faster, cursing the injuries that were slowing him down.

He was panting now, sweat pouring down his face, frantically trying to pull in enough air to fuel his straining lungs. If only he could use the Force to help him! He was used to having it to rely on in times of exertion, and a mere four months had not been able to break him of the lifetime habit. Even now he was instinctively reaching out, trying to grasp the Force and use it to aid him.

But the collar did its job; although he could feel the Force, it seemed fuzzy and muted, and slipped away from him no matter how hard he tried to catch it. He had only his own strength, and that was waning fast.

He dashed up a last flight of stairs and came to the top of the staircase, where a door led out into the roof gardens. Gasping for breath, Obi-Wan slammed his hand onto the ID pad and the door swished open. He shot through it, wishing fiercely that he had something to disable the door controls with so that his pursuers could not get through after him. Unfortunately, the only guns around belonged to the ones who were chasing him, and he couldn't see them offering to lend him one.

He dashed off into the gardens, sprinting along the winding corridors, past greenhouses and flowerbeds and rows of small trees. He passed through several small uncovered areas, but he was running so fast that each went by in a momentary flash of sudden brightness, and then he was under cover again.

He ran down a last stretch of corridor and suddenly came out into the main centre park. The sunlight dazzled him for a moment, making him falter, but he regained his footing quickly and hared off among the trees, trying to stay in the most shadowed areas.

An angry shout from his right drew his attention and he looked up, his eyes widening in horror as he saw Gatt coming out of a doorway, followed by half a dozen armed guards. Blaster bolts began to scorch the grass around him and Obi-Wan swerved in the opposite direction, his already pounding heart suddenly threatening to erupt from his chest. He tore off across the grass and through another doorway, back into the roofed areas of the garden, blaster fire ringing in his ears. He could hear Gatt's furious shouts behind him as he ran headlong down the corridor, all trace of rational thought lost, knowing only that he must keep going, that he could not, dare not stop...

Until he rounded a last corner, and came up against a dead end.

The wall loomed ahead of him; he was in one of the open areas and it led up onto the real roof, which might have held an escape route - but it was a jump of perhaps two and a half metres. If he had had the Force, he could have made it, but without it, and in his current state...he didn't have a chance.

He spun, his eyes wide and panicked, looking for another way out. But in his frantic dash to escape, he had run down a blind alley in the maze that was the gardens. The only way out was back the way he had come.

He could hear the sound of running feet and blaster fire coming closer, and realised with sudden sickening clarity that he was caught.

Qui-Gon dashed across the rooftop; the real rooftop this time, not just the garden area. The Force had urged him up, and he had come up as far as he could go. Dimly, he could hear shouts in the distance, and turned in that direction.

Obi-Wan backed up against the wall, trembling from head to toe, as Gatt rounded the last corner, followed by his guards. Gatt stopped when he saw Obi-Wan and bared his teeth in a savage grin.

"End of the line, boy," he said, breathing hard and looking utterly insane. "You've led me a merry little chase, but this is where it ends." He raised his blaster, aiming it directly at Obi-Wan's head.

/So this is it,/ Obi-Wan thought dully. /This is the end. I'm going to die here./

With that thought, the fear seemed to drain out of him, leaving him strangely calm. He looked across at Gatt; staring into the muzzle of the blaster that was about to end his life, and time seemed to slow.

He saw Gatt pull the trigger of the blaster.

He saw the flare of light at the muzzle as the gun fired.

He had a split second to think longingly of the Temple, of his friends, of his life...

And then, so suddenly that it was almost a blur, a figure dropped from the roof above his head, and Qui-Gon landed squarely between Obi-Wan and Gatt, his lightsaber drawn and blazing.

Time resumed its normal pace.

The laser bolt Gatt had fired ricocheted off the glowing blade and flew back over Gatt's head, slamming into the wall of the corridor in an explosion of sparks. For a long moment they all stood frozen in a bizarre tableau, staring at each other. Then Qui-Gon moved ever so slightly, tightening his shoulders into a battle stance, ready to fight.

Instantly, all hell broke loose.

With a roar of rage, Gatt threw himself backwards, behind his guards, just as the whole group of them started to fire. Qui-Gon deflected the bolts, moving so fast that Obi-Wan could barely follow it. Laser bolts bounced off the green blade, shooting back they way they had come. Two of Gatt's men cried out in pain and fell as the bolts found their mark.

"Back!" Gatt roared, retreating down the corridor. "Back, you fools, before he kills us all!"

Two of the guards followed him, while another two kept firing. Qui-Gon sent the bolts skittering back to them, and another man fell, howling in pain. Sending a final quick volley of shots, the last guard turned abruptly and fled after Gatt.

Extinguishing his lightsaber, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, who was still leaning against the wall, wide-eyed and panting. "Come on," he said urgently. "We haven't much time."

Back along the corridor, Obi-Wan could dimly hear Gatt screaming for backup, calling for more guards. In moments, they would be overrun. He looked up at Qui-Gon. "Which way?"

"Across the top," Qui-Gon said. He glanced down at Obi-Wan, then held out a hand. "Trust me."

His gaze steady, Obi-Wan nodded, extending his hand to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon took it, then pulled the boy close to him, holding him around the waist. Obi-Wan sensed a sudden stirring in the Force and felt Qui-Gon's muscles bunch as he leapt, using the Force to propel them both onto the top of the wall. They landed neatly and Qui-Gon released him, glancing around to get his bearings. "Let's go," he said, and led the way off across the roof at a dead run.

They sprinted across the roof, Qui-Gon in the lead and Obi-Wan scrambling to keep up, gasping for breath. Qui-Gon took them all the way to the side of the house and they careened along the very edge, some six storeys above the ground. Obi-Wan wondered dimly where they were going, trying to keep his eyes off the sheer drop to his right. He was exhausted, his lungs burning, his lacerated back on fire. He couldn't keep this up much longer, and he knew it.

Suddenly Qui-Gon stopped dead, so quickly that Obi-Wan nearly slammed into the back of him. "Fire escape," Qui-Gon said shortly, looking down over the side. "Come on, quickly."

Leaning over the side, Obi-Wan saw a slim, winding metal staircase extending down the side of the building. Qui-Gon easily jumped the few metres down to the first landing and held out his hand, gesturing for Obi-Wan to join him. Obi-Wan jumped after him and felt Qui-Gon catch him and support him with the Force, cushioning his landing. Then Qui-Gon was off, racing down the stairs, and Obi-Wan scrambled after him, calling on every last vestige of strength to try to keep up.

Down and down they went, haring down the metal stairs, feet flying. They remained unmolested until they were only one level above the ground, when a guard suddenly appeared from a doorway just below them, blaster drawn.

Qui-Gon's reactions were so fast as to be almost a blur. His lightsaber was instantly ignited, and the flurry of blaster bolts from the guard's weapon were sent ricocheting off in all directions. Still deflecting bolts, Qui-Gon reached around behind him, grabbing Obi-Wan with one hand and pulling him close. Holding the boy tightly around the waist, he propelled them both over the staircase railing to land with a jolt on the ground. Pushing Obi-Wan behind him, still continuing to defend against blaster fire, Qui-Gon started backing up, lightsaber humming.

"Go!" he shouted to Obi-Wan. "The landing field!"

Obi-Wan didn't argue, just began to run, hearing Qui-Gon's footsteps behind him over the hiss and crackle of blaster fire. He tore around the side of the house and started across the open stretch of ground that led to the landing field. Blaster fire crackled over his head and he ducked, faltering, but managed to regain his footing before Qui-Gon collided with him. Qui-Gon shoved him, hard, and Obi-Wan felt himself propelled with a Force-aided push into the protective shadow of the buildings that surrounded the landing field.

Under cover now, he darted between the buildings, hearing angry shouts and gunfire coming from behind him. He rounded a corner onto the landing field itself, looking wildly about him, wondering which of the ships there was Qui-Gon's. He darted under the cover of the first ship he came to, risked a quick glance over his shoulder and saw Qui-Gon sprinting after him, in full retreat now, taking advantage of the cover to widen his lead...

And then he was colliding hard with something, the impact sending him sprawling across the ground, scraping knees and hands and face painfully and making his wounded back scream. Gasping, the breath knocked out of him, he cast a frenzied glance around to see what he had hit -

- and saw Darvala sprawled on the ground beside him, clearly stunned by the impact. She looked over at him, her eyes wide and frightened. "Obi-Wan," she managed to say. "What - ?"

Obi-Wan cut her off, waving a frantic hand at her. "Darvi, run!" he choked out desperately. "Go!"

Shouts from behind him and the crackle of blaster fire made him glance back in horror, just in time to see Qui-Gon halt his forward momentum to deflect another round of bolts. He turned back to Darvala, scrambling clumsily to his feet and yanking her up with him. "You have to run! Go! Now!"

"But what's going on - ?"

"Go!" He was almost crying with frustration. "Now!"

She stared at him, uncomprehending; he shoved her hard to get her moving, then suddenly reversed the action, grabbing her arm and pulling hard, flinging them both sideways as another flurry of laser bolts came winging in from a different direction. He landed on top of her and heard her cry out in pain as they both rolled, coming to a stop in the shadow of another ship.

Obi-Wan struggled to disentangle himself from Darvala, pulling at her arm frantically to try to make her get up. She didn't move, and he glanced down at her, nearly frantic now...

And froze.

Her eyes were open, her face slack. Her head lolled sideways as he jerked himself up and off her, and a strangled cry broke from him as he saw the smoldering wound in her chest. A blaster bolt had hit her from behind.

He stared, his eyes growing wider and wider as sheer horror took the place of fear. Darvi, his friend, the only person in this whole accursed place who had been kind to him...oh, Force, no...

He heard the hiss of laser bolts and the crackling hum of a lightsaber. Someone screamed, off to his left, and he flinched, his vision blurring. Hands suddenly grabbed him from behind and yanked him to his feet, and he was spun roughly about to face Qui-Gon, who was breathing hard and soaked with sweat. He shot a quick, regretful glance at Darvala's body, then looked Obi-Wan straight in the eyes. "Grieve later. Run now. My ship. That one."

He gestured to a battered cargo ship a little way across the landing field from them, the ramp already beginning to open. Looking up at Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan managed to shove aside his anguish and take a deep breath.

"Run," Qui-Gon said urgently. "Go!"

Obi-Wan ran.

Blaster bolts exploded into the ground on either side of him as he sprinted for the ramp. His feet hit the metal flooring of the ramp and he pelted up it, flinging himself through the hatch into the dim interior of the ship. A blur of motion was briefly visible in the doorway and suddenly Qui-Gon was beside him, having used Force-enhanced speed to follow as soon as Obi-Wan was safely inside. The ramp whirred and began to close again, blaster bolts pinging off the edges as their pursuers fired after them.

Qui-Gon raced for the cockpit and Obi-Wan ran after him, throwing himself into the copilot's chair beside Qui-Gon. He heard the familiar whine of engines as Qui-Gon powered the ship up and activated the shields.

"Here we go," Qui-Gon muttered, and Obi-Wan felt the pull of G-forces as Qui-Gon poured full power into the thrusters and the ship lurched sharply upwards, leaving the ground behind with dizzying speed. A moment later they were airborne, heading away over the mountains.

Obi-Wan slumped back in his seat, drenched in sweat, his head spinning. His muscles burned with fatigue, his lacerated back throbbed painfully. He was trembling with reaction and felt close to tears.

A sudden shrill beeping from the control console jerked his mind away from his exhaustion. Qui-Gon was scowling, his fingers flying over the controls. "They've sent fighters after us," he said grimly. "Strap yourself in, Obi-Wan, this is going to get rough."

The ship banked sharply as two small fighters came screaming in from above, laser cannons blazing. Qui-Gon executed a graceful maneuver which took them out of range of the blasts, then went into a dizzying series of barrel rolls, deftly evading the fire from several more fighters which suddenly appeared on their starboard side. Obi-Wan heard the pulse of laser cannons beneath him as Qui-Gon returned fire, and a powerful concussion rocked the ship as a nearby fighter exploded.

"Obi-Wan, I need you to take the gun controls," Qui-Gon said urgently, avoiding another barrage of fire from the fighters.

Suddenly galvanised into action, Obi-Wan leaned forward, quickly assessing the controls. He gripped the fire lever in both hands, focusing on his targeting screen, blocking out everything else. As Qui-Gon spun the ship through a tight series of turns, he concentrated on the small shapes on the screen that were the fighters, waiting for one to come within range of his guns...

There! One fighter strayed too close and he targeted it, jerking the fire lever downwards. The ship's laser cannon sent a bright pulse of energy towards the little fighter and it exploded, debris flying in all directions.

As Qui-Gon continued to evade the barrage of fire, Obi-Wan destroyed two more fighters, and now only two remained, still doggedly pursuing them as they wheeled and spun, looping and diving over the mountains in an attempt to avoid the laser blasts.

Another fighter exploded to their left as the ship came out of a steep dive to abruptly streak back upwards. Qui-Gon had looped around in an attempt to evade the pursuit and they were now almost back where they had started, wheeling above the peak that sheltered Gatt's compound. The last fighter shot past them and Obi-Wan fired at it, the guns sending bright bolts of energy into the sky mere metres from the fleeing fighter, which went into a spectacular dive and vanished beneath them. A moment later it was back, coming at them from the other side, guns blazing.

Qui-Gon threw the ship into another series of rolls as Obi-Wan returned fire, again missing the little craft. The pilot was skilled, Obi-Wan thought grimly, his eyes locked on his targeting screen. He prepared to fire again as it came back into range.

The ship rocked suddenly as a blast made contact, and Qui-Gon swore. There was a loud detonation as another blast shook the ship, and a shower of sparks came from the control console in front of Qui-Gon.

"It's those blasted anti-aircraft guns," Qui-Gon said. "Hold on, Obi-Wan, we need to get some distance."

The ship streaked away, smoke pouring from its hull, and the little fighter doggedly gave chase. Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan as another burst of sparks shot from the control console. "We're hit, and badly," he said. "We're going to have to take her down somewhere or she'll do it for us."

Obi-Wan nodded, his knuckles white as he gripped the fire controls. Qui-Gon took the ship into a dive, flattening out their trajectory as they came nearer to the ground. They were speeding over mountain peaks as Qui-Gon scanned ahead, looking for a place to set the ship down.

The last fighter suddenly soared in above them, firing, and the ship rocked once again as one of the blasts found its mark. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as the smaller craft zipped out of range again, following its progress on his targeting screen.

/That's about enough from you,/ he thought grimly. He waited, tracking the fighter's moves. If it followed its previous attack pattern, he thought, it would now come at them from the side and try to escape away underneath them. He did not plan to let that happen.

The fighter roared in again, and Obi-Wan watched, his world narrowing to the tiny moving shape on the screen before him. Loop, spin, fire, closer...

Targeted.

He yanked on the fire control lever and a laser bolt shot from the cannon on the underside of the ship, clipping the little fighter. It did not explode but careened away to one side, out of control, and Obi-Wan lost sight of it behind another peak.

"Well done," Qui-Gon muttered. "I've found a spot to take us in, so hold on tight."

Obi-Wan gripped the arms of his seat as the ship banked sharply. He heard the engines scream in protest as Qui-Gon tried to slow their descent. Too badly damaged to comply with the commands, the ship jerked slightly in the air and Qui-Gon swore and took it though a series of sharp downward turns to try to distill some of their momentum. They hovered above the ground, then the engines seemed to stutter suddenly and the ship lurched sideways, smoke pouring from the damaged hull as Qui-Gon extended the landing gear and they came to a shuddering halt in a small, flat clearing, halfway up one of the peaks.

Obi-Wan let his breath out in a long, shuddering sigh, slowly releasing his death-grip on the chair arms. He leaned back against the padded headrest and closed his eyes, trying to get control of himself. After a long moment, he opened his eyes again and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. He looked over at Qui-Gon, who was still sitting in the pilot's seat, checking the damage to the ship's systems.

"How does it look?" he asked. His voice shook slightly, and Qui-Gon shot him a look of concern.

"Not the best, but it's repairable, I think - and if my droid made it onto the ship, it will be a damn sight easier to do." He got up from his seat, heading for the door. "I'd better go and check and take a look outside, see where exactly we are."

Obi-Wan got shakily to his feet and trotted after Qui-Gon as he made his way down through the ship. They entered a cabin at the stern and Qui-Gon let out a sigh of relief to see a small astromech droid standing by the door.

"So you made it here in one piece, then?" he said, and the droid chirped brightly at him. "Well, good. We're going to need you for the repairs." He turned to Obi-Wan. "I'm going to go and have a quick scout around outside, make sure the area's clear. Why don't you have a rest for a few minutes, and when I get back we'll see how the damage looks."

Obi-Wan nodded dumbly as Qui-Gon turned and strode from the room, his boot heels ringing on the metal flooring. He stood motionless for long moments, staring blindly around the room as his mind struggled to process what had just happened. His head throbbed.

A sudden wave of nausea made him gasp and he barely managed to make it into the 'fresher before falling to his knees in front of the sanitation unit and being violently sick.

The heaving left him breathless and trembling, his body drenched in cold sweat. But every time he felt the nausea start to subside, Darvala's face would flash before his eyes and he would be racked with another series of painful heaves. He was still crouched on the floor when he felt a comforting hand on his forehead and another on his shoulder, steadying him.

"All right, you need to calm down, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, crouching behind the boy. "Just breathe, take deep breaths. I doubt you've got anything left to throw up now, so just breathe and it will pass."

Obi-Wan tried to obey, his breath coming in harsh pants.

"No, no, not so fast or you'll hyperventilate. Slowly. Deep breaths."

Gradually, Obi-Wan's breathing slowed to a normal pace, and the iron fist clenching his gut seemed to relax a little. He took a deep, shaky breath and sat back, closing his eyes against the light which suddenly seemed far too bright. He felt Qui-Gon move away and heard the sound of running water, then a glass was pressed into his hand. "Drink some, it'll help."

He took a couple of small sips, grateful to be able to rinse his mouth out. After a few minutes, the dizzy feeling began to fade, and he opened his eyes. The sickness had passed now, and with Qui-Gon's help he was able to get to his feet.

"All right now?" Qui-Gon asked, looking deeply concerned.

"I think so," Obi-Wan said, wiping his hand over his sweaty forehead.

There was a long pause, then Qui-Gon spoke again, softly. "She was a friend of yours?"

Qui-Gon's voice was soothing, compassionate, and Obi-Wan sensed his deep regret over the deaths they had left behind them. "Yes," he said, thickly. "She was."

Qui-Gon looked at him for a long moment, then put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Just remember that there is no death, Obi-Wan. She is free now, at least."

"Yes." Obi-Wan tried to accept that, and it rang true, even though a part of his mind was screaming that it didn't matter if she was free now, she was still dead. His friend. The only friend he had had in that place.

But...she had hated being a slave, hated her life there...so perhaps...perhaps it was better that she be free, however it had happened.

His eyes burned with sudden tears and he blinked them away. The hand on his shoulder squeezed once, gently, and Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon, struggling for control. "I got the information."

"What?" Qui-Gon looked startled.

"The information you needed about Gatt's informant. I got it. I have it on disk." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the precious disk, handing it to Qui-Gon with fingers that felt suddenly numb. "Gatt caught me just after I saved it. The informant's a Corellian Senator, Van-Amat."

"Senator Van-Amat is Gatt's informant? Are you sure?"

"There were communications from him. Information about weapons shipments. All on high-security channels."

"By the Force. Suddenly things begin to make all kinds of sense." Qui-Gon shook his head, looking down at Obi-Wan again, his gaze suddenly growing stern. "Obi-Wan, you did a very dangerous thing when you went to get this. You could have been killed."

"I know," Obi-Wan said. "But it was the only way."

"Be that as it may, I gave the orders I did to protect you. It was foolish of you to disobey me."

"Yes." Obi-Wan felt numb and cold, barely able to take in what Qui-Gon was saying. "No. It wasn't. I had to."

There was a long pause. Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon and saw the Jedi studying him carefully, his brow creased with concern. After a moment, Qui-Gon spoke again, more gently. "I think you should get some rest, Obi-Wan. I will see to the repairs for now."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, I want to help."

"You're injured, and exhausted. You need treatment, and then you need some sleep."

"I'm all right. I want to help. You need to get back to the Council with that disk."

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "There's no reasoning with you, is there? All right, all right. But you will take it easy."

"Yes." Obi-Wan wasn't sure why he needed to help so much. Perhaps it was just so he could hold on a little longer to the feeling that he had a mission, a purpose.

Or perhaps he just didn't want to risk dreaming right now.

"Come on then, let's see how the damage looks in the engine room," Qui-Gon said tiredly. He led the way from the cabin, and Obi-Wan and the little astrodroid trailed after him.

Qui-Gon kept a watchful eye on Obi-Wan as he worked on the repairs. The boy was clearly in a state of shock, and Qui-Gon was more than a little worried about him.

When they had first landed, he had gone outside to take a look at their surroundings, finding them to be barren and completely deserted. After a quick look around, he had felt a faint stirring in the Force and returned to the ship, only to find Obi-Wan being violently ill in the 'fresher. Not surprising really, considering what the boy had just been through. He had managed to calm Obi-Wan down and tried to convince him to get some rest, but the boy was adamant that he wanted to help repair the ship and Qui-Gon had been simply too tired to argue with him.

The ship was going to take a couple of days to repair, even with the droid, but it was repairable, much to Qui-Gon's relief. The long-range communication systems had completely shorted out, so he could not contact the Council, but so long as they could get airborne again, he had decided that it could wait until he reached Coruscant.

The information about Gatt's informant was startling. Senator Van-Amat had not even been on the list of possible suspects, but now that Qui-Gon knew, it made perfect sense. He was amazed that no one had thought of it before now.

The communications that Obi-Wan had found were concrete evidence that Van-Amat was the one responsible. After reading them, Qui-Gon was positive that they would stand up in front of the Senate, no matter how hard Van-Amat tried to cover his tracks. The Senator was going down, Qui-Gon thought grimly. And not in a blaze of glory, either.

And he had Obi-Wan to thank for that. Qui-Gon cast another glance at the boy, frowning. Obi-Wan's demeanor worried him more that he liked to admit.

Qui-Gon had finally convinced the boy to let him treat his injuries, but he had still stubbornly refused to rest. The ship needed to be repaired, Obi-Wan insisted. They needed to get off this planet. Qui-Gon needed to get back to Coruscant with the information about the Senator. "You need to rest," Qui-Gon had said firmly. "I want to help," Obi-Wan had replied, just as firmly. It had gone on like that for several minutes before Qui-Gon had finally given up.

And so here they were, all three of them, up to their elbows - figurative elbows in the case of the droid - in wires and circuits and panels that shouldn't be sparking like that but were anyway.

Qui-Gon had tried to engage Obi-Wan in conversation, hoping to take the boy's mind off what had happened and focus his thoughts on his now much brighter future. "You have your freedom back," he had said. "Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

Obi-Wan had looked at him blankly. "Do?"

Qui-Gon was a little nonplussed by the response. "Well, you have a future to think about, after all."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It's not like I had any choice in it anyway."

Qui-Gon winced at the hopeless tone, realising that he must have just reminded Obi-Wan about the Agri-Corps, which he had never really wanted to join in the first place. He tried another tack. "I'm sure your friends will be very happy to see you. They must have been very distressed to hear about your disappearance."

Another shrug. "I guess."

"Obi-Wan." The boy looked up at him dully. "Don't you want to go home?"

Obi-Wan held his gaze for a moment, then looked away. His eyes were dark with pain. "I don't have a home."

After that, he had lapsed into near silence, meeting Qui-Gon's further attempts at conversation with monosyllabic answers, and eventually Qui-Gon had given up, deeply concerned for the boy's state of mind but not really knowing what to do. The look of despair on Obi-Wan's face when the boy had said he had no home had cut him to the quick. And he had felt that despair, too, rippling through the Force like a heavy grey wave, engulfing everything it touched.

And that in itself was even more disturbing; the fact that the fledgling bond he had formed with Obi-Wan during their adventures on Bandomeer was still intact. He had sensed the danger Obi-Wan had been in through the Force, had felt his distress when he was being sick in the 'fresher, and he could feel the boy's unhappiness even now. But how could it be that a bond he had fought so hard against had somehow survived despite all that had happened?

He could still recall with nerve-wracking clarity the desperation he had felt on realising that Obi-Wan was in danger. Nothing had mattered except getting to the boy. Not Gatt, not his informant, nothing. And as it turned out, Obi-Wan had accomplished that particular mission for him. The boy's courage was outstanding...but then Qui-Gon had known that already.

However, Obi-Wan had suffered greatly over the last four months, and it showed. Qui-Gon could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the aura of defeat that hung about the boy like a cloak. It worried him, and he was battling an undeniable feeling of guilt that Obi-Wan should have been through so much, and that he might have been able to prevent it and hadn't.

/If I had taken him as my Padawan, it all would have been different. Better./

He shook his head, half angrily. Regrets would get him nowhere. And yet...

/What is happening to us here?/ he asked himself distractedly. /It cannot be mere coincidence that we have been thrown together again. Nothing happens by chance, especially not something of this magnitude./

He glanced over at Obi-Wan again, working on a damaged panel, and it suddenly struck him that the boy was still wearing the slave collars. He bit back a curse, realising that he himself was so tired that the collars had not even registered on him until this moment. "Obi-Wan," he said, and the boy turned to face him, his eyes questioning. "Come here for a minute. Let me see if I can get those collars off you."

Obi-Wan looked a little surprised, but came over willingly. "Do you think you can?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll try. I'm sorry it didn't even occur to me to try until now. It looks like I'm more tired that I thought," Qui-Gon said with a sigh.

"That's all right," Obi-Wan said, shrugging. "I don't really notice them much anymore, unless I'm trying to use the Force."

"Hmm." Qui-Gon was examining the black collar, looking for a catch or seam. He found nothing. He put his hands around it and tugged experimentally on both sides, but there was no give. With a grunt of irritation, he drew his lightsaber and set it to low power. "Let's try this." He touched the 'saber to the side of the black collar and it hissed and began to melt. "Well, that looks like it'll work. Hold still for a minute."

Qui-Gon melted the collar as much as he dared without letting the hot metal get too close to Obi-Wan's skin. When there was only a thin layer holding the collar on, he took a small cutting tool and sliced through the rest. Moments later, the collar was lying in a dismantled heap on the floor.

Obi-Wan's hands flew to his neck. "Oh!" He took a deep breath, his eyes closing, letting his head fall back. A small smile touched the corners of his mouth. A moment later he looked back up at Qui-Gon, and his eyes seemed to carry a hint of their old brightness. "Thank you," he said softly. "It was awful, not being able to touch it properly."

"I'm sure it was," Qui-Gon said grimly. "What about the other one?"

"Decoration, ID, and a tracking device. The range isn't very good though. It won't make much difference out here."

"Hold on, I'll see if I can get it off."

Qui-Gon repeated his actions with the other collar, and soon it too lay on the floor. Obi-Wan rubbed his neck vigorously for a moment, then sighed. "Thank you." He looked around briefly. "I guess we should get back to work."

"Actually, I think it would be a good idea if we started taking it in turns to keep watch outside. I don't want anything sneaking up on us while we're doing the repairs. If you want to take the first watch, I'll keep working here, and we can swap later." Qui-Gon was rather hoping that a bit of fresh air would make Obi-Wan realise just how exhausted he was. Perhaps then he could convince the boy to get some rest.

Obi-Wan looked at him dubiously for a moment, as if he knew quite well what Qui-Gon was intending, then nodded. "All right, if you think it's a good idea."

"I do. Better to be safe."

"Won't it be quicker with two of us working though?"

"Perhaps, but we really don't want anyone catching us unaware when we're grounded like this. I'd just like to keep an eye out. Don't go too far, though, just stay around the ship."

"All right." Obi-Wan turned and headed slowly for the door. He walked stiffly, clearly still in pain, and Qui-Gon frowned. The boy got full marks for stubbornness, that was for sure. With a sigh, Qui-Gon turned back to the repairs.

Obi-Wan wandered across the rocky ground outside the ship, keeping a watch on his surroundings but not really expecting anything to come of it. They had been here for two nights now, taking it in turns to keep watch while the other either worked or rested, and had not seen hide nor hair of anything except a few small mountain creatures which were far more afraid of them than vice versa.

They had been lucky in that the damage to the ship had been repairable with what they had. If they had needed replacement parts they would really have been in trouble. As it was, the repairs were progressing smoothly, and Qui-Gon had said this morning that he thought they might be ready to leave by tonight if all went well. It would depend on how fast they could get the last of the repairs done, but having the droid around was making it far easier than it might have been.

It was Obi-Wan's turn for watch again, and he was planning to climb a bit further up the peak. After the first day he had started making forays away from the small clearing where they had landed, up through the craggy rock that led up towards the summit. They were only about halfway up the peak, so he had no intention of actually trying to get to the summit, but it gave him something to do, as well as providing a better vantage point should anyone come calling.

His injuries were healing, slowly. His back was no longer as painful and the scrapes and bruises he had picked up during their escape didn't bother him unduly. In fact, physically he was all right. Emotionally, however, he felt utterly lost.

He had his freedom back, as Qui-Gon had pointed out to him. But what did that mean, really? His dreams of becoming a Jedi Knight had already been taken away from him. He didn't even know what would happen when they got back to the Temple. Would they just pack him off back to the Agri-Corps? Very likely. What else was there to do with a failed Jedi hopeful, after all?

He sighed heavily, pushing the thought from his mind. /Don't think about the future,/ he told himself firmly. /Just...don't think about it./

It was something he had become quite adept at during the last four months. Thinking about the future would only have sent him deeper into despair, so he had tried not to let himself do it. Instead, he had allowed himself to sink into a kind of numbness which insulated him from feeling too much. Right now, he was very grateful for that numbness. It allowed him to take all the misery of what he had been through in the last four months, and just ball it up in a little corner of his head where he didn't have to touch it.

/There is no emotion, there is peace,/ he thought sadly. /It doesn't feel very peaceful, though./

He continued to climb, cursing the fact that he didn't have boots, which would have made it a lot easier. Sandals were just not made for mountain climbing. However, it was either that or go barefoot, and the rocks were sharp.

Some fifteen minutes and a stubbed toe later, he was situated on a crag of rock that projected out over the side of the peak, looking down over a sheer drop of dizzying height. Below and to his left, he could see the rocky clearing where they had landed, Qui-Gon's battered ship squarely in the centre. He leaned out over the drop, feeling the wind in his face and shivering slightly in the chill air. He wasn't really dressed for mountain climbing, even with the jacket Qui-Gon had given him. However, now that he could touch the Force again, he was able to use it to regulate his body temperature, so the cold didn't bother him too much.

At least he had the Force again, he reminded himself. Being deprived of his connection with it had been almost painful, and the continual disappointment whenever he automatically tried to grasp it and found that he couldn't had just made it worse. The feeling when Qui-Gon had removed the collar and he had been able to fully touch the Force again had been wonderful, like a balm to his wounded spirit. Right now, it felt like the only thing he had to hold on to.

He looked down over the side of the peak, watching idly as several small mammals streaked nimbly away across the rocks below him. Suddenly a movement lower down caught his attention, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to make out what it was. He was sure he had seen something, down below the clearing where the ship was and off to the left, but whatever it was seemed to have vanished again. He stood motionless, watching intently, waiting to see if it would make another appearance.

There! A figure was moving among the rocks, heading up the side of the peak in the general direction of the clearing they had landed in. He strained his eyes, trying to see it more closely, but it was weaving in between the rocks and was all but hidden from sight. Obi-Wan watched as it crept along, catching brief glimpses of what looked like a humanoid figure wearing black.

The figure suddenly came out from behind the shelter of a large rock into a more open area, and Obi-Wan's heart went cold.

It was Gatt.

/It can't be!/ Obi-Wan thought frantically, stunned. /How?/

The answer came to him a moment later. /That last fighter. Gatt must have piloting. All I did was clip him, he probably went down nearby. He would have seen the smoke from our ship...and if he had his tracking device on him he was probably close enough to track my collar...oh, Force. Qui-Gon./

Qui-Gon was in the ship, working on the repairs.

And Gatt would be armed.

Shoving back the surge of terror he felt at the thought, Obi-Wan began to run, haring back down the side of the peak towards the clearing, scrambling over the rocks as fast as he could go. /Qui-Gon's a Jedi Master,/ he thought desperately. /Gatt won't catch him unawares, he's too well-trained for that.../

But Qui-Gon was tired and stressed, just like Obi-Wan was, and even a Jedi Master was still human. Even if Gatt only surprised him for a moment, that could be enough.

Obi-Wan tried to move faster, cursing as one sandal caught on some loose rock. With a snarl, he reached down and ripped both of them off, tossing them aside. He was going to cut his feet to ribbons, but at least he could move.

He scrambled down over a jagged boulder onto a flatter stretch of ground, a long shelf about ten metres above the edge of the clearing. To his horror, he saw Gatt just coming up over the edge to his left, a blaster clutched tightly in his hand. There was no sign of movement in the ship; Qui-Gon would be inside, unaware of Gatt's approach.

Gatt was approaching the ship now; he had circled around it and was heading for the open ramp, which faced out to Obi-Wan's right. Obi-Wan could see the man's hand clenching convulsively around the handle of his blaster, and when he caught a glimpse of Gatt's face, the madness there was enough to make him shudder. Gatt wanted revenge, pure and simple, and he would not stop until he got it.

For a brief moment, all of Obi-Wan's instincts screamed at him to run; run right back up into the mountains and keep running until he left Gatt far behind him. He had been trained all his life to resist fear, but Gatt had frightened him. The man's madness and brutality had broken him down to a shadow of his former self and he wanted nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible.

But...there was Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon had rejected him, yes. He had killed Obi-Wan's dreams of becoming a Jedi Knight deader than a Tatooine cactus on Hoth. But Qui-Gon had also saved him just when he had given up all hope of being saved, he had given up the chance of completing his mission to rescue Obi-Wan from Gatt, and Obi-Wan could not just turn and walk away if Qui-Gon was in danger.

Besides, despite all that had happened, he still looked up to Qui-Gon with something close to worship. That would never change. And he'd be damned if he was letting Gatt take anything else away from him.

All those thoughts flashed through his mind in mere seconds, and before Obi-Wan even had time to plan what he was going to do, he was sprinting along the shelf of ground towards the edge, calling on the Force to increase his momentum.

He reached the edge of the shelf and flung himself forward with a Force-aided leap, out over the clearing, straight at Gatt. The man must have sensed something, because he turned at the last minute, and Obi-Wan caught a quick glimpse of Gatt's shocked look as he collided with him with the force of a small torpedo.

The pair of them went flying, entangled with each other, rolling over and over towards the lip of the clearing. Before either of them could do anything to halt their progress, they had tumbled over the edge and were rolling down the steep hill in a tangle of arms and legs.

Rocks dug painfully into Obi-Wan's flesh as he struggled to keep a hold on Gatt, not wanting to give the man any distance to allow him to use his blaster. He had managed to get Gatt's right arm pinned between them, the blaster pointing straight down, and he was holding on for dear life, hoping that Gatt would not dare fire in case he accidentally blew his own foot off.

They hit a large rock with a sickening jolt, and Obi-Wan lost his grip on Gatt and went tumbling sideways. He rolled head over heels down a last stretch of slope and plunged over another lip, falling nearly two metres to the ledge below. He managed to land correctly and roll, but the impact was enough to knock the wind out of him and he lay there for long moments, face pressed against the rock, wheezing painfully as he struggled to draw breath.

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of his jacket and wrenched him up, spinning him around, and he found himself nose to nose with Gatt. Obi-Wan stumbled backwards reflexively, his eyes fixed on the man before him.

Gatt's face was bruised and bloody, but he seemed relatively uninjured by their tumble down the mountain. His eyes were wild; no trace of reason left in them, and his teeth were bared in a savage grin of triumph as he bore down on Obi-Wan. Still struggling to breathe, Obi-Wan could only watch helplessly as Gatt raised a hand and hit him savagely across the face.

The blow was hard enough to send him flying, and he tumbled backwards, landing heavily on the ground. A shower of sparks arced across his vision as the back of his head connected solidly with a rock. A moment later the pain followed, nauseating in its intensity, and Obi-Wan couldn't hold back a cry.

Vision blurring, gasping for breath, Obi-Wan struggled to focus. He looked up muzzily and saw Gatt looming over him, his blaster drawn, grinning madly.

/This is it,/ Obi-Wan thought dully through a red haze of pain. /This is how it ends./

The last thing he heard before blackness overcame him was the faint crackling hum of a lightsaber...then silence.

Qui-Gon stood, panting, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he stared down at Gatt's body. He had emerged from the ship just in time to see Obi-Wan and Gatt tumble over the edge, and had raced to the boy's aid. He couldn't use Force-speed on the unsteady ground and so had been forced to rely on his own speed to reach them, and had arrived just in time to stop Gatt from blowing Obi-Wan's head off. He had struck from behind, a killing blow, and Gatt had collapsed without even getting off a shot. Qui-Gon doubted he even knew what had hit him.

He looked down at Obi-Wan, who was sprawled on the ground, unconscious. He was covered in cuts and bruises and blood was dripping from his nose and a gash on his forehead, turning his face into a grisly mask. Qui-Gon knelt beside the boy, using the Force to scan for injuries, dreading what he might find.

A few minutes later he let out his breath in relief. Obi-Wan was injured, certainly, but there was nothing there that was life-threatening. Cracked ribs, a fractured tibia, a nasty concussion and more cuts and bruises than Qui-Gon cared to count, but he was going to live. The relief Qui-Gon felt at realising that left him almost dizzy. To lose Obi-Wan now, after all that had happened...he would never have forgiven himself.

/I would die to keep him safe,/ Qui-Gon thought with faint amazement. /When did he become that important to me? When did I begin to care so much?/

Gently, not wanting to aggravate the injuries further, Qui-Gon lifted the unconscious boy into his arms, cradling Obi-Wan's head against his chest. He could feel the lump rising on the back of Obi-Wan's skull and winced. The boy was going to have the headache to end all headaches when he woke up.

Leaving Gatt where he was, Qui-Gon started back up the slope towards the ship, carrying Obi-Wan with him.

The first thing Obi-Wan was aware of was that the light was much too bright.

He opened his eyes just a crack, winced as the light seared them and squeezed them shut again, trying to put a hand over his face to shield himself from the glare. Pain flared along his arm and he groaned, aborting the movement. His head throbbed fiercely, making coherent thought difficult. Was he dead? He had thought that he must be, but he hadn't thought that it would hurt quite this much.

A large hand rested on his forehead, and he started, trying to shake it off. "Easy, Obi-Wan," a deep voice said gently. "Just take it easy. You've had enough excitement for one day."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, blinking rapidly against the brightness, and saw Qui-Gon standing over him. Memory returned in a rush, and he sat bolt upright before Qui-Gon could restrain him, gasping at the pain in his ribs.

"Whoa, easy," Qui-Gon said, trying to push him back down, but Obi-Wan struggled against his hold, looking up at him urgently.

"Gatt's here," he said frantically. "He's here, he's outside - "

"I know," Qui-Gon said, cutting him off. "I took care of him. It's all right."

"You mean - you mean he's - ?"

"He's dead." Qui-Gon looked down at him, his gaze compassionate. "He can't hurt you anymore, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan stared at him, his eyes wide, disbelieving. Gatt was dead? Could it be?

He saw the truth in Qui-Gon's calm gaze, dispelling his doubts. It was true. Gatt was gone.

The realisation sank in slowly, as Obi-Wan struggled to comprehend the enormity of what had happened. Then, to his own absolute horror, he burst into tears.

He tried to fight them back, mortified at his loss of control, but was immediately gathered into a firm embrace as Qui-Gon pulled him gently against his broad chest, speaking to him in a low, soothing voice. "Shh, Obi-Wan, it's all right. You're safe now. He can never hurt you again. Never again, I promise. I promise, Padawan."

Padawan?

Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath as he realised what Qui-Gon had said, and heard Qui-Gon doing the same. He pulled back from the embrace and stared up at Qui-Gon in disbelief, his face streaked with tears. "What did you call me?"

Qui-Gon looked almost as surprised as he did, but then a slow smile spread across his face. "Padawan," he said, almost marveling. He looked deeply into Obi-Wan's eyes, suddenly serious again. "Obi-Wan, I did you a grave disservice by refusing to take you as my Padawan on Bandomeer. We had already formed a bond. The Force was guiding me to become your Master, but I fought what I knew was right, because I was afraid."

"Afraid?" Obi-Wan echoed, surprised.

"Yes, afraid. Afraid of losing you the way I lost Xanatos, of failing a second time. My fear has led to your suffering, and for that, I beg your forgiveness."

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "I forgive you, Qui-Gon," he said quietly. "How could I not? You saved me."

"And you have saved me, Obi-Wan. And if you truly can forgive a blind, foolish man for the wrong he has done you...then I would be honoured, beyond measure, to accept you as my Padawan."

Obi-Wan looked up at him, his eyes still bright with tears. "But you can't take me as a Padawan. I'm too old."

"By eight months? Pah." Qui-Gon waved a hand dismissively. "Eight months is nothing. I'll work you extra hard to make up the time."

Obi-Wan continued to stare at him, his confusion evident. "But - but - you didn't want me. You - you were afraid I'd turn."

"My fear, Obi-Wan, brought on by my own insecurities, not by anything you had done." Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's chin in his hand, tilting his face up. "Obi-Wan, do you still want to be a Jedi Knight?"

Obi-Wan gaped at him for a long moment, hardly able to believe his ears. Qui-Gon was seriously offering to take him as his Padawan? Offering him the chance to become a Jedi Knight, as he had always dreamed of doing?

But was he offering because he truly thought Obi-Wan would be a good Jedi, or out of pity? He would not take charity, not even to fulfill his dream.

"It is not pity, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, startling him. "I have fought against the will of the Force long enough. You are meant to be my Padawan, and the bond we already share proves that. How else could your thoughts be so open to me? How else could I have sensed the danger you were in so readily? See the truth of what I'm saying, Obi-Wan, and answer me from your heart. Do you still want to be a Jedi Knight?"

Obi-Wan hardly knew how to answer. Of course he still wanted to be a Jedi Knight. That was all he had ever wanted. But could he become Qui-Gon's Padawan, now, after all that had happened? Was he worthy of it? Or was he still too angry, too uncertain? Was he too damaged, after having been a slave? What if he couldn't do it? What if he disappointed Qui-Gon? What if, what if?

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, pulling his spiraling thoughts back into some semblance of order. Closing his eyes, he opened himself to the Force, letting the comforting wave of it break over him.

/I must trust in the Force./

That was what he had been taught for as long as he could remember. Trust in the Force, and you will find the answers you need, his teachers had said. Trust in the Force, and it will provide.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, not even really knowing what he was going to say, just reaching out to the Force for guidance and deciding to let it and his heart speak for him. Surely the Force would guide him to the right path.

"Yes," he heard himself say. "Oh, yes."

He heard Qui-Gon let his breath out in a sigh of relief. "And will you accept me as your Master?"

"Yes, I will. Gladly, Master." He couldn't hold back the tears now, even as his face split in an unsteady grin, and he was startled to look up and see tears in Qui-Gon's eyes as well. A moment later he had been pulled into another hug, Qui-Gon holding him tightly and cradling Obi-Wan's head against his chest. Obi-Wan winced as Qui-Gon's fingers brushed against the lump on the back of his head, and Qui-Gon released him, looking chagrined.

"I'm sorry, Padawan. How bad is that?"

"It hurts," Obi-Wan said, still smiling, his heart lighter than he had ever thought possible. "But right now I don't care."

"Well, I do. I'll see if I can make it a bit better. Hold on." Qui-Gon pressed a hand to Obi-Wan's forehead, and Obi-Wan felt a sudden stirring in the Force. The pain in his head eased slightly, and he sighed in relief.

"Thank you...Master," he said, shyly, trying out the title.

"You're most welcome, Padawan," Qui-Gon replied, smiling at him. "You took a fair knock. You were a bit of a mess when I brought you back here."

Obi-Wan grimaced, looking down at himself. "It feels like it. Everything hurts. What's the damage like?"

"Better now that I've seen to the worst of it, but you're going to be very sore for a while. You had three cracked ribs and a fracture in your arm, and by the look of that lump you were lucky you didn't crack your skull open as well."

"I hit it on a rock," Obi-Wan said. "When I fell."

"The way you went down that slope, you're lucky you didn't do a lot worse. You had a nasty concussion, but I've taken care of that, and the broken bones. The rest is just surface damage, cuts and bruises, although as I said, you're going to be sore. Your feet are a mess. What happened to your shoes, by the way?"

"I took them off. Couldn't run fast enough. I saw Gatt from further up and had to run back."

Qui-Gon shook his head fondly. "Stubborn boy. I felt your distress through the Force. I came out just in time to see you and Gatt go over the edge. It was a dangerous thing you did, Obi-Wan. You could have been killed."

"I know," Obi-Wan said, ducking his head. "But I...I was worried about you. I knew you were tired, and if Gatt had surprised you..." His voice trailed off, and he looked up at Qui-Gon, half-expecting a reprimand.

But Qui-Gon just smiled at him, putting one hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, Padawan. I am grateful. But in the future, I would like it if you would think a little more of your own safety, too."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said automatically, then fell silent, hardly able to comprehend the sudden changes in his life. 'In the future', Qui-Gon had said. Three days ago he had been a failed Jedi hopeful turned slave, beaten into submission and lost in such a mire of despair that he had thought he would never find his way out. Now, he was a Jedi Padawan with a Master, and a future. It was almost unbelievable. If it hadn't been for the pain he was in, he might have thought it was all just a dream.

"Are you all right, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, feeling a little dazed. "I think so. It's just...it's all happened so fast." He grimaced. "I know it's silly, but I feel like I've been left behind by my own life."

"I know the feeling, Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly, "and it's not silly. It's happened fast for me, too. But I feel the rightness of this path. And together, we can help each other through until we both get used to things."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said, smiling. "I'd like that. I feel that this is the right path, too. It's just...I almost can't believe it, I guess." His eyes went unfocused for a moment, lost in memory. "I was so close to giving up hope..."

"Well, I think there is a lesson for all of us here, my Padawan," Qui-Gon said gently. "No matter how dark things appear, how hopeless, we must never give up."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said obediently, and caught Qui-Gon's eye. Both of them smiled, and Qui-Gon reached out to ruffle Obi-Wan's hair fondly.

"But now, Padawan, I think you should get some rest," he said. "We will have plenty of time to talk later. In the meantime, I have some repairs to finish, and then we can be on our way home. I'm sure the Council will be most interested to hear about what's been going on."

"The Council..." Obi-Wan breathed, suddenly alarmed. "Master...will they disapprove? Of you taking me as Padawan? What if they don't allow it?"

"The Council would not be so foolish as to try to fight the will of the Force, Padawan," Qui-Gon said calmly. "In fact, I believe one member of the Council in particular will be extremely pleased. Master Yoda was quite unhappy to lose you as a student. Fear not, Obi-Wan, they will approve."

"You think so, Master?"

"I know so, Padawan. Now get some rest. I'll come and wake you when we're ready to leave."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan lay back down on the bed, and Qui-Gon pulled a blanket up over him.

"Sleep well, Padawan. You need your rest. When we get back to Coruscant we're going to have a great deal to do, starting with making you a new lightsaber. It's going to be hard for you to spar without one."

Obi-Wan felt his face split in a huge grin. A lightsaber! His own lightsaber, again! How he had missed it!

"I can't wait, Master," he said happily, and Qui-Gon smiled.

"Rest now, Padawan," he said, flicking the lights down to low, and Obi-Wan nodded obediently. He listened to Qui-Gon's receding footsteps as his Master left the room, and lay gazing at the ceiling until he finally fell asleep, thinking dreamily of a future that would, he hoped, be as full of light as his heart.

The End